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THE CALLER

After breach in tolerance
one peeled truth becomes incendiary.
Afraid of the known:
pitched against
unknown.

Dying young with stiff upper lip,
the grief,
was not curtained enough.
The malignant spread,
refused to retract a name from the epitaph.

Greed overtook
by calculation,
powerful thrust to run the winds,

the virgin grass will not surrender.
Lethal on the move, a humble shout
was nearer to god.

Satish Verma

----------------------------------------------

THE CALLER

After breach in tolerance
one peeled truth becomes incendiary.
Afraid of the known:
pitched against
unknown.

Dying young with stiff upper lip,
the grief,
was not curtained enough.
The malignant spread,
refused to retract a name from the epitaph.

Greed overtook
by calculation,
powerful thrust to run the winds,

the virgin grass will not surrender.
Lethal on the move, a humble shout
was nearer to god.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------

THE CALLER

After breach in tolerance
one peeled truth becomes incendiary.
Afraid of the known:
pitched against
unknown.

Dying young with stiff upper lip,
the grief,
was not curtained enough.
The malignant spread,
refused to retract a name from the epitaph.

Greed overtook
by calculation,
powerful thrust to run the winds,

the virgin grass will not surrender.
Lethal on the move, a humble shout
was nearer to god.

Satish Verma

Satish Verma

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.

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STRAY FALL

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By: Satish Verma | 29/11/2009 | Poetry
Someone connects a bonsai to elemental peat. Your visual collides a clay bite of water, deepening the bottom of invisible fence. My primrose was waiting for you.

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By: Satish Verma | 29/11/2009 | Poetry
floating in a sewage tank; a short circuit in an incubator, row of infants, life snuffed out in flames; of being. I want to know ontology, need a spinal surgery; somebody wants to abort a fetus

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By: Satish Verma | 27/11/2009 | Poetry
Unhappy, you reverse the mode of retrieving against the terms of swimming alone.

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By: Satish Verma | 27/11/2009 | Poetry
tree view.I was proud of being alive during carpet-bombing. A catnip was needed to clear

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By: Satish Verma | 27/11/2009 | Poetry
oppression releases a promise for optic illusion through large-prints

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By: Satish Verma | 26/11/2009 | Poetry
Strange thoughts give words a pain. A mountain unfolds a tunnel.He who carries a vase of ashes must enter the gate to plot a path

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By: Satish Verma | 26/11/2009 | Poetry
Velvet thorns become signature of my pain and joy.

SHAMEFUL

By: Satish Verma | 26/11/2009 | Poetry
for requiem and then distributes the raw moments in subterfuge, we play the game to cheat each other without shame.

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