Today I want to take a lethal dose of black lips, confronting the killer on contract. Time dithers to escort. May be a cold-blooded murder of a handful of sick shadows will give a transparent memory.
Planting a sad kiss on blameless insomniac, I rub the sweet tenderness of morning blossom, a work of a faithful artist, an unnoticed grief (for the sake of old promise) . Meanwhile the blue moon splits into thousand splinters.
From the height of insanity flows the chaste river of history. I defy the laws of gravity and climb with death all the time, becoming dark to myself, finding the shape of light in beauty of death.
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
She’s loved by many but walks alone. It’s not because she has no one to comfort her, or that she isolates herself from those surrounding her, but it’s because she’s all the strength and comfort she needs. While others find
Truth you seek, Character you weave The beauty you perceive, with the eyes austerely. Respect you earn, sacrifice and yearn Leaders you breed, Monarch unveiled. Mother, sister, lover or daughter The legacy you leave of your charismatic nature and affection
Behind your face was cleaver releasing past poem. The sensual milk flows from the palm into your lake. Grieving for the torn wings of pink light. Cruising on thighs with eyes closed death utters a shriek. The eternal flame closes
…So, I asked: what is beauty? He said: it is the impossible becoming real; or It is the kohl of a string on the forefingers of a guitar player; It is the explosion of astonishment on a beautiful lady’s waist;