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 email@example.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
The spill of sheen after deep throat explosion. Not as special as the day appeared. Afraid of complete annihilation? Was it possible? Untenable? Living in a cavern full of bats? A key slept in a lock unmoving the golden doors.
This life has snubbed the bloom like a thick brown sac thrown on the sod. An octogenarian tries to slice the hope indulgingly to achieve immortality! Was it a virile snarl? A rose bud wrenched open in a fatherless home.
She sits there looking so cold and alone But somewhere under there, There beats a heart Beneath all the black and chrome The smooth lines that glimmer Soft but sharp in the night Are begging you to play the game
Death is truly traitorous It is highly cancerous; But dealing adventurous With animals herbivorous. Death is truly traitorous It is highly decorous With examples numerous Of behavior scabrous. Death is truly traitorous It is highly glamorous Though itself timorous As
To celebrate a beautiful sin on the green lake a sequelae starts a covetous lust of white skulls, discovering oneself was as exciting as the fondling of breast for the first time – innocent graveside, road burning stretching to throbbing