Crisp and tight, a parallel voice of black stars talks to sky, protesting the presence of ultimate outsider, when everybody was a partner of collective guilt in nightscape.
What was the center of fight in elite members? The unhindered ego or claim of bland crumbs of authority? The innocents so many, on streets, surrounding a red smudge, liberty, watching her personification, who sleeps here!
Whom it burns? As the blood spurts from the chest of a white stone.
• On the death of Neda Agha Soltan in Tehran on 20st June 09
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
There was thunder in the hut teeth clattered under the ground. Handcuffed you walk in inequality to qualify for hanging till dead. I may not tell myself what was happening to me. Moving in opposite direction the bird was able
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
Sea sand wind and rain all will be gurgling in pain whence it has arisen in noises surfing waves alighting high and low above the ravines careless and moody lushing and slushing movements of waves for only surfing Pale is