Ceramic memories and terracotta pain; the injured crypt ultimately got opened. At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine ritual for a nameless martyr. The sword within him was not used and pubescent bomb went unexploded.
You leave a beautiful war glorified by defusing a land mine and roadside bomb was dismantled. Looking for a blue flame you entered the stone house of death, and left the hurt gift. The moon will smile again when you come back as a bright star.
The dead potsherd comes alive when I dig for your name.
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
Sweet blooms dance across the screen Collage credits snipped from a magazine Marching bears play the liberty bell Thy tempestuous stomping foot sends them all to hell Bouncing maids on barnet fair Gods and angles grace the air A Cardinal
Never, in all the pointless days I have worked here Has the air ever been so dull and depressing It tasted warm and metallicdisstopea But not in a good way I turned up early this morning I mean, I hate
In a world where a hold is placed on perspective, and accomplishment is marked by material things. Never lose your inner child. In a world where everyone grows up and forgets the things that make them happiest, never lose your
HUMANS OUT LOOK Happenings of the past brings in Nostalgics delight Some may be bitter some may be sweeter Some may be thriller some may be cooler One recounts any of these in a more relaxed way whether it was