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 kantasatish@gmail.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
A rapt moon was listening a tale of two murders. Across the caste, fingernails were digging in to give – a putsch to darkness, unhappened in vain. A word tears into the untouched pain and I bleed for the golden
Helping myself wiping my tears , and trying to escape my fears . See myself scared confused clone , delving deeper into something unknown . Nostalgia from another night of no sleep , symptoms of my illness still creep .
For the fusion of minds let the long vigil of night begin for a cultural shock. Prayer wheels were whirring furtively. The Buddha was going to weep. Imperial march of hundred thousand boots in fever wakens the darkness under the
Time within the earth hour was lengthening. The other god was sleeping. Becoming was inviting the death while climbing. Frostbite amputates the memory. Ending without beginning, I was asking the seeker to stop searching the answers. The houses were burning
In the bosom of a heart A mother bore a little one With all pangs of pain In motherhood and labor. In the chambers of her heart She kept him safe Suckled the little one With all her love. An
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