Satish Verma Poems

Black fire was furtively raging
after the massacre of moon.
I still stood with feet of clay
to experiment with my lies.
...

The twisted moon
moved horizontally,
plunged in cleavage
of dark trees
...

When you were rolling in dust,
a puritan said, truth was me.
It was getting dark in Himalayas.
...

I have peeled off my eyes.
Fear of unbeing creeps in,
genes were escaping.
...

An oriole gives
an edgy call
in the blaze of morning.
...

Deep blue, almost black,
sadness.
Being,
my ache of existence.
...

Watching the ascension
of half-moon from the brown hills
there was a blast in veins.
...

In a pool of blood
a face swims.
Under the boulders
there is a muffled scream.
...

What is the relevance now
to live for a cause?
Epicenter has changed.
They were altering the human gene.
...

In the valley of blasts
a row of jacarandas
tall, sweet smelling,
...