Paused

Paused short poem

Photo by pierre bédat

Exfoliated, I come to you,
to scratch the blighted
palace of the body, where
a god lived once.

Dervish, when did you stop
whirling? The tomb is gone,
the shroud tattered. I am
collecting the withered roses.

It rips open, the black fruit
showing the bleeding stone.
How did I believe, the tiniest
particle will create the universe.

The tree was felled scattering
the seeds. An unsure hand,
pulls on the leash and sets
the entrapped animal free.

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Satish Verma

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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
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Life Paused In Cry

Life Paused In Cry short poem

And she sat there , in front of her fiery son , laid forever , in pieces of uneven fiery wood , quiet as usual but this pious stillness was for forever , she was fixed to the ground, she