Watching A Galaxy

I collect the unknown fears,
better than the known.
Winds start a virgin dance
of reeds.
There was a music for a monk
I prepare myself
to run into the storm.

You are not, what you pretend to be
and I also don’t need to see the ugly inside.
Enigma for apology,
to erode the authority-
for which you carry a mask, to beat the truth.

Where and when we will meet
for interpretations? Sleep may bring
a quick death of a nova
unravel the secret
of a flying prayer.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Satish Verma

Satish Verma

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
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
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "Watching A Galaxy"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Aloke
Member

A poem of great depth. Well-written.

wpDiscuz

Watching The Rollers

Watching The Rollers sonnet poems

I can’t recall the people on the train from Delhi to Jammu. I don’t retain their style of dress, their speech or anything. All I can see is the bob of the telephone lines where roller birds regard the country

Squirrel Watching

Squirrel Watching prose poem

Many are we who live and die, having never taken the time to smell the roses Or to behold the sometimes breathtaking beauty of a cloud in the sky Nor even to take a drive to the west side of