Satish Verma

Gold Star - 41,821 Points (5-6-1935)

Satish Verma Poems

4121. Ironical 6/16/2010
4122. * Yes 11/26/2009
4123. Baby Face 3/28/2008
4124. Milk Bath 2/20/2008
4125. Happy Valley Of Stings 10/5/2007
4126. Mother’s Day 10/23/2007
4127. Ageism 11/30/2009
4128. Vision 9/24/2013
4129. Meanness 12/29/2012
4130. Living Dangerously 2/23/2015
4131. Masculinity 7/18/2014
4132. Integers 3/27/2010
4133. Aconite 10/8/2007
4134. Intense Poetry 11/28/2007
4135. Some Questions 2/14/2015
4136. Waist-High Sunk 2/16/2015
4137. Pantheon 11/3/2011
4138. Loss Of Identity 5/20/2014

Comments about Satish Verma

  • Seamus O Brian Seamus O Brian (9/19/2016 1:36:00 PM)

    Reading Mr. Verma's poetry is like chasing the siren of kaleidoscopic street fetishes, leaving you hungry to swallow mink-oiled feathers, while others charge the battlements of confused money-changers, and what you thought you grasped disappears down the tuberosity of a catfish spine.

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  • Thakker Bhupen Thakker Bhupen (6/6/2011 8:01:00 PM)

    I found 'Anniversary of Flirtation' sensational. Your poem and you are like the Colour Navy blue greeting Pink, under a Gold tree, Bhupen Thakker

  • Yacov Mitchenko (12/25/2009 8:35:00 AM)

    Satish Verma is a very interesting poet. I'm not quite sure I like the style, but it's highly provocative and original. The writer is definitely worthy of further study.

  • Goldy Locks (10/15/2007 11:14:00 PM)

    Satish's poems are loaded. They astound. Wrap your mind around his lines for this guy has lived intently, intensely and has much to share, teach.

    best care
    sjg -~-

Best Poem of Satish Verma

Loss Of Identity

It was chillingly true.
You walked out─
of the soot, without
leaving any footprints.

There were some very
hard questions. Why─
did you snap,
while sparrows were mating?

Carnage. The roses
were burning inside. The
red cherries shriek and
run for the amnesty.

On the terrace, the yellow
moon descends for a─
word. Why the nukes were
pointed towards the spiders?

Read the full of Loss Of Identity

Rains Are Coming

Sleep me, conceive me like sphagnum;
propel me to essence of death.
Seeing has put me behind the truth,
objectively.
Like centipede, fear crawls in deep blind cave
throwing the feelers.
The gene has faltered. No red lights.
A paw, a blackboard, white lines
message is not clear.

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