Washed by tears, the flame kindled again. Crimson magma was quick to engulf the drops on forehead. Fired from close range the bullets opened the bloodgates in quick succession. It should not have happened! Therefore the journey resumes outside the good or the evil. The rdx bombs are found at your doorsteps and you watch helplessly the murder on dining table. Are you safe in linens of truth? The lip gloss of diplomacy will work? The sea was turbulent and a hijacked trawler was left on waves with the shot body of captain. Your hands are trembling on the knobs without doors. Through the death I perceive a child crying in the arms of a sobbing galaxy. There were needles on the road and our soles were bleeding.
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
Sounds of the highway; so peaceful to me Warm cool breeze ; smell of the country air Mountain views; snow covered mountain peak Turkey’s talking; eating their feed loving the country Life; country air in the breeze. This is where
A frame lifts the skirt of a portrait and throws her genitalia on your face. A twin blast has taken place. Why did you stand for eclecticism? The fables will miss you and blue horse will not return home. The
I want to go somewhere where the rain is like thunder and the sky is like an ocean; where everything around me is so loud I cannot hear my brains thoughts; screams running through my skull and wrapping around my