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 email@example.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
Sometime small, sometime big But dream is dream Sometime it makes us happy, sometime it scares us But dream is dream Look it, feel it, and fulfill it Live for your dream and let dream live for you Long life
Down the drain, down the drain, follow the sand down the drain. His soul woven cloak awaits, scythe in hand, ferry leaving the docks. Crooked steps, cold and blackened breath, take me unto you. One leg in the grave, half
I kissed the pillows of her cheeks. Covering myself in the blanket of her caress. While here nothing is heavy. Maintaining the balance of smiles in the bed of her arms She doesn’t mind my snore, relaxed in complete comfort.
Last night I dreamed but not of Manderlay. It was instead of the Oak Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield where death evokes life. The moon bathed everything with its silvery beams making it easy to find my way through row upon