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. Satish Verma has published seven volumes of poetry in English and four in Hindi, translated three books of Ravindra Nath Tagore in Hindi. He lives in Ajmer [INDIA] where he runs a charitable holistic institute called SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION.
The promised apple I did not eat.
The red skin started bleeding
in my palm. Butterfly flesh
was unable to glide.
Two round, intense eyes were chasing me.
A namesake volcano
bursts open in my chest,
then I notice the flowing lava
from hungry eggs.
The earth will not conceive again.
In the backyard a blue jay
was waiting for the golden seed.
I suck a fatal tweak
in the sundrunk green.
Thirsting for the logic will never the unmade.
Satish Verma
------------------------------------------------
SULKING
The promised apple I did not eat.
The red skin started bleeding
in my palm. Butterfly flesh
was unable to glide.
Two round, intense eyes were chasing me.
A namesake volcano
bursts open in my chest,
then I notice the flowing lava
from hungry eggs.
The earth will not conceive again.
In the backyard a blue jay
was waiting for the golden seed.
I suck a fatal tweak
in the sundrunk green.
Thirsting for the logic will never the unmade.
Satish Verma
-------------------------------------------
SULKING
The promised apple I did not eat.
The red skin started bleeding
in my palm. Butterfly flesh
was unable to glide.
Two round, intense eyes were chasing me.
A namesake volcano
bursts open in my chest,
then I notice the flowing lava
from hungry eggs.
The earth will not conceive again.
In the backyard a blue jay
was waiting for the golden seed.
I suck a fatal tweak
in the sundrunk green.
Thirsting for the logic will never the unmade.
Satish Verma
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By: Satish Verma | 17/12/2009 | PoetryThe yellow beaked vultures were waiting. A cloth bag contains the bleached remains; his father. Impeccable gift unmasked. After the inferno, hydrants went dry. The guilt survives the dispossession, pondering over the black dew now covering the pink roses.
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EXPORTING
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A MONUMENT
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EXPORTING
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RETURNING
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