Maimed, tortured for love of resistance this night appears to be without an end. There was nothing to lose, it was looking for some reason to die on the side of a cloud when the sickle moon was sailing.
Tomorrow a new lie will be born. Even a suicide bomber will be tossed around, like a new coin. Weaving a dress of skin and bones in the little sky of so many purple birds.
Acoustics are not working walls have no doors. By night only a torch will be moving.
Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. This is magic, profoundly soulful. In a lone, long journey Satish Verma is still discovering himself. Beaten, betrayed, felled, he comes back with fierce velocity. His childhood was traumatized by India’s partition. Terror, violence and death were witnessed which built the morals of poet. Becoming defiantly recluse Satish Verma pursued his value based life on the path of truth. Teaching Botany for 35 years he was writing poetry, privately and solemnly and published twelve collections. Worked silently with social causes. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (INDIA) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION. He can also be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
Entering the room consumes all in the boardroom All eyes rise all phones are placed down without a groan or a sound Walking in proud owning the floor just walked on for sure endowed Honing the sharp minds for the
She dusts her memories with thoughts and prayers for those she left behind. Longing for them like ebb and tide. She spins looms of love laden with smiles and hope And somersaults days into nights tossing her old life into
It’s nights like these when I feel like an irony living within itself radiating love yet feeling unloved. It’s night like these when I can’t recognize what tomorrow holds or recall what yesterday held. I feel like an insect crawling