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Satish Collection

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.

 

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Aquilla. Would you 
carry the burden 
of ungiving? 

Transmuted, I 
will find you in portrait 
of sublime? 

And I will see in your eyes 
a cosmos, floating in void. 

But a primal question 
remained unanswered, who were you. 

Through the blue sky 
and legends of dark, the 
constellations squirm. 

And I start believing 
in God dust.

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You will remember― 
what I would not― the 
inner darkness of noon. 

A bright sun goes 
blind for a caged bird. To 
dream or not to dream in 
the path of unknown. 

Any celestial movement― 
will bring the halcyon days? 
One day the man will change? 

This culture, your 
ethos were making the 
sense datum extinct― a fossil. 

Far from the meanings 
the body language flies 
in wings of wax. 

Again an era ends, 
the very blood of stones.

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The weight of the ideology 
flattens your upheaved chest. 
You speak, what you did not want to say. 

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands, 
put you on the pathless clouds. 
How would you now fly towards the sun? 

The polarization was deliberate, 
to usurp the authority. Blue jays 
have refused to join gangs. 

A faded document tells about 
your missteps. A bunch 
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace. 

Black versus black will 
not brighten the screen. One third of 
generation had the criminal record.

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You were different from 
others, away from home and hypocrisy, 
unlistening to the fiat 
of karma. 

There should not be 
any put-on face. Hibiscus will tell the truth. 

Sanguine. I will again 
invoke the bride of moon. 
Time to go for a simile. 

Eros tips. I educate 
the limbs, not to go 
for the anima. The bearded face. 

You had ruffled the tranquil 
poem. I cannot gather 
the tender moments.

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Night blinks. 
Light sits under the door. 
I am ready to confront the moon. 

Too much brilliance 
was there. Would you redesign 
the blue sky and paint the new stars? 

Poverty was my great strength. 
Nothing to lose, when 
you were dancing with the shadows.

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My bronzed speech is available, 
accepting the defeat of daffodils. 
I will not write an elegy. 

The postpartum blues are over, 
I am coming out of the crib, 
like a new born poem. 

Floating the paper lanterns, at 
night, on flowing river, to send the 
message to moon. No more the beach will cry. 

The triangular nuts will 
speak of the hurricanes, protecting 
the hairy seeds. 

No resistance was needed 
to stop the invading army of black 
ants, ready to tear the dummies.

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The ostrich problem 
of catalepsy. 
You go into a cocooned 
opacity. 

I will wait, till you 
come out, ready to take a flight 
for an oath ceremony. 

The land suffers, 
the sky weeps. 

The shotguns would now decide 
the boundaries of speech. 

I will walk into the 
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship, 
to retrieve the faded road map. 

I have to face a new testament, 
how to remove this poverty 
of right words.

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Trembling… 
the burning coal has gone to sleep, 
before igniting the dry grass. 

Eye to eye colliding 
turning you into ophelian mess. 
Light had gone back to black matter. 

It was a frisk season― 
in sick society. The hidden plaques 
have come out in the blood stream. 

You are now backtracking 
on the uphill, ready to fall 
from the green heights to connect with ground. 

For keepsake I will 
again unwrite the book 
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.

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When silence stays alone 
in the hollow of the eyes, 
would you come? 
In the audacity of 
beauty and pain, when 
the moon does not rise. 
Like beggars the clouds 
roam, parting the 
sky for a glimpse of a vision. 
We will speak like 
strangers not looking into the eyes. 
Not quite sure― 
you blinked. Time to return 
back the gifts of ocean 
profound and deep. 
Pearls, tears and half-angel.

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You will remember― 
what I would not― the 
inner darkness of noon. 

A bright sun goes 
blind for a caged bird. To 
dream or not to dream in 
the path of unknown. 

Any celestial movement― 
will bring the halcyon days? 
One day the man will change? 

This culture, your 
ethos were making the 
sense datum extinct― a fossil. 

Far from the meanings 
the body language flies 
in wings of wax. 

Again an era ends, 
the very blood of stones.

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Be what you are. 
As night falls, 
I start moon spotting 
standing starkly against the pain. 

Reaching for you 
from you, in― 
moonless night. 

The relationship of 
dream blood, was never 
seen but heard. 

The pursuit of location 
where the eclipse descends like a dot 
on truth. 

I am going to touch 
the surreal constellation 
again in your wet eyes.

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Arithmetic becomes poetry, 
when you start counting the stars in Milky Way. 

Light will cross 
your path. Your own sun 
becomes a logic. 

You step into a holy bath 
to collect all the scripts 
of the dark circles. 

Where the infinity starts, 
you become the center? 
of all the conflicts. 

A simple way to burn 
without throwing light. 
How would you raise your finger?

True Love


My Perception:----The whole world is based on Love and EMOTIONs.It is Emotions that rule the world and everyone in the world is EMOTIONAL.I encourage Love marriages.
Introduction:---
The word LOVE can have a variety of meanings in different contexts.

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