by Satish Verma
Lips of clay tend to bleed
my kisses.
And the distant moon treads
softly on the spent passion.
A private crimson
blunts the whiteness of moon.
The birds-
step out from the fog.
Last moments -
of the bell to announce
the schizophrenic flesh
sailing like snowflakes.
A primordial fear -
was destroying the profile of man.
Here it goes-
the spiritual enigma.
A blast
of stunned silence:
I am collecting pebbles
from the trees.
Satish Verma
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Pitted against the forces bigger than him Satish Verma has been fighting with life on his own terms. In this savage, violent and raging times, he has authored several collections of poetry in English and Hindi, in concrete and precise verses, analyzing the complex nature of man, history and ancient heritage of Homo sapiens. And standing at crossroads he is asking where do we go from here. His poetry communicates a beautiful, mystical mind exploring the images of nature, trying to find the meaning of the life and death, the ecstasy of talking to moon, flowers and wind in the kingdom of god. He wants to know cannot we live in peace?, Satish Verma addresses the most complex questions of philosophy, religion and political culture in a very subtle but virtual shocking manner. As aptly said by Lao Tzu, The one who speaks does not know, The one who knows does not speak, 5-Aii, Mayor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer-305007 INDIA
Last updated December 06, 2012