Liberation

Liberation short poem

Photo by D-Stanley


When I flew into a storm
my words collided with thunder
and stars fell on ashes of dead.
I wanted to scream. Seeking a freeze
on past.Future was stretching its arms.
A calling.Erratic explosions?

The ruins were becoming worthy
of worship.Hunger exudes the trapped
smell. You light an earthen lamp for
split masks, the face will never be known.

Only there were two concrete eyes
darting without thoughts, telling without sound.
There is no water, only million suns.

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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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Liberation

Liberation short poem

Life binds Life captivates Life ensnares, Life seduces Few have mettle To dare! I too not; But I love it not Accept it as God’s plot From which none Has an escape Nor a way of any sort. Death I

Confused Liberation

Confused Liberation short poem

Measuring mantra to the drops falling from tap a visitor to the abode of Khwaja suffers pushes from the crowd and yet remains thirsty: the Khadim promises prayers Gharib Nawaz feeds the soul he returns to the Sun City through