It was a clouded heart. I was fidgeting with fate and there was no otherway, no way. I did not want to keep him waiting either, but I must be ready to receive the guest.
Thief of pain was coming in the blizzard for a murky deal. I refuse to fall apart. The epitaph was incomplete and Emperor was demanding his due of golden sleep. Was it the worth of a new born. Sky was overcast.
Taking the thought to its fossil home. Stings were sharp and the next stop was ocean. Water of funeral way. Still the sweet lips would haunt for the honey. Gone, the wax palace was gone, no body was going to light it.
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
alone in my bed I lay still not able to pray I close my eyes to a world unknown cobwebs etched in the very fabric of my existence alone helpless with demonic bites viscous fangs with long stemmed dripping blood
A dream… Always like a stained past An unknown future A brimming river which dominates And takes you wherever it wants Doubtful, Undecided and Dark Sometimes sweet.. sometimes bitter Sometimes cute.. sometimes harsh Incredible yet uncontrollable Fantastic yet unpredictable A
Ignorant of limit, free of bond Virtuous foolishness, night-less dream All pervading, all purifying You are the pounding of the heart And the gushing of the blood You are the pain of separation And the exhilaration of tryst The sighs,
“At least eighty dead,” is all you’ve said…. As that charred colossus, Grenfell, towers overhead. The hopes and fears of those you loved, Dead. Those missing, without mention, who died, without dying, who cried, without crying. The faceless, euphemised headlines