A pagan will search for antiparticles after a collective wrong: some tantric will throw up the smoke rings before the paean starts. Come, stand beside me, sadness is going to find me again
on the oak tree. A hairy spirit climbs up to give a call of a touch wood for a voyager. The viscera has been packed for the final verdict of a forensic lab. Now I have nowhere to go between myself and truth.
It might not end, the poor conversation between life and death. The eyemask saves the guilt of sleepless nights at old punctuations. Makes the words ferocious for the lamenting cause. From tree to tree the fireflies swing.
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 email@example.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
The whisky, the dream, and the cold sky The river below cries a lullaby Two street lights flicker and die Stars twinkle, the moon and two fireflies Our friends sleeping below, it’s just you and me Words are easy, they
With fireflies in a jar, I treaded along the path, Strewn with silver streaked flowers, Under the starlit sky. The moon hid its face , Behind the cloudy sheers, And beckoned to the trees, To sing a soothing lullaby. A