Satish Verma Poems

A poem writes my name.
I am trembling
on paper like salt.
...

There was existence,
without space.
I was afraid of my unborn child.
...

They swim like tadpoles.
Thoughts!
I was waiting at the far end of pond.
...

Somebody had put the feet
against the flame,
the street had become a wall.
...

Looked downward –
the granite face,
to see imprinted kupfernickeled
god, lying in dust.
...

Your lips were me.
I wanted a kiss
which never came.
...

When terror strikes,
fear inside you
makes a hissing sound,
breaks the vessel.
...

There was the hunger
and suicide.
In favor of my brutal truth
or virtue of my failure,
...

A pink rose was set to strip
letting the leaves fall.

The roots were jealous of a thorn
...

They manipulated the words
to cross the corridors of essence.
Crib was empty, child was stolen.
At blood stained altar
...