Satish Verma Poems

It was white genocide.

You travel faster than
the sounds of sun.
...

From the fog to fog,
grim reminder eludes me.
Where had you been?
•
...

Accepting the way,
you are going to rise
winning me over.
...

A moth clips the red
flame to become the martyr
of the fading moon.
...

Like cutting my own
blue thumb, a crazy thought
to earn rare wisdom.
...

Plucking a kiss from
your hair, not to miss again
the moonwashed face.
...

Feathers will carry
the wages of sins, to fly
after my lips taste.
...

Read my sparks
in detachment, for the
intimate collage.
...

My poem done. The
blood night comes gingerly
I will stay awake―
...

Was revisiting
to quiet the moon in pink rage
crying in faithful arms.
...