Some depth, my thoughts never touched, the moonlight fades on my window. The vague gratification, falls silently on my mind. Pausing on relativity, I open the door to eternity.
Vast loneliness of qualms, like the cult of dancing doubts where was the choice? I felt guilty at the fall of truth. Black grass was not my doing. My blood dripped on every count, on every tear.
I don’t need questions anymore. Give me landmarks. Darkness was for me. I will walk relentlessly in search of light. Alone, you will remember the fire, the spent spark in woods. It makes a difference when you are picking flowers.
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
In late Spring when heros scream A source of sophistication from faint misery Inside the thwart hidden silence of the pivotal solace of my mind With mind blowing excursion toward the legally blind inside Woods in growing habitation & silence
Thanksgiving never will I forget Hopping in the car for a very long ride to grandma’s house With heavy frost on the grass, glistening in the sun Singing songs and counting grain bins to pass the time Now the frost
Far from the hubbub of city nature nursed a dense forest and preserved the primitive air. A roaming fairy rested here for sometime loved the light and shade and murmur of leaves. The Lord of Woods came and proposed to
Sometimes I drift away crossing the time limits following the rivers’ way or climbing the higher summits Happily with the birds I fly or join the wolves while they cry Sometimes I like to be the sun sole and aloof
Last night the long stretch dream seemed so real I felt stranger in the morn’ going through the ordeal Those wood, those mountains, those valleys so steep All looked so near for the touch, feel and my keep And now