Menu

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.

 

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

I am trying to do my bit, 
nonpareil. A soundproof doer, 
erasing the palm from the painting― 
drinking the nitrogen from the air 
starving myself. 

Cannot bequeath my eyes, 
my thumb vision. You were always 
asking about my sadness, emptiness. 
I will not tell about 
the acid times. 

That killing instinct was not 
there. I will give you the 
unborn poems, that would not wear 
the death mask, my unspoken 
thoughts, peeling after the darkness and 
I will let you go to find your path.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

Not giving or taking. 
I will share you― 
in water. 

Believing was not significant. 
I was holding you 
to implode. 

Not your words, not 
my script, will translate 
the thumbprint. 

A time comes, when 
you become your own father, 
to carve out the pure truth. 

The duality bothers 
a lot. You want to convert 
the myriad into one.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

This was a twisted ladder 
for reduction of poverty, 
which climbs the steps during 
methane breach. 

An absent presence will 
snatch away, your unconscious 
surrender. The scent had 
made a wall of its own. 

A summer fall incites the 
book makers. The naming was 
a secret bet. The dead will 
never recall the skeletons. 

Spawning an army of robots, 
will you go to the volcano mount 
to offer a living bait?

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

The hunger was scouring 
each house― in utopia― 
daring you to open the door. 

Weavers were ready for― 
the moment― of encounter― 
to spin the corona. 

As if an asteroid was heading 
towards the silent ariel, 
to destroy its integrity. 

Beyond good and bad, there 
was an effigy of a designer― 
in dancing mode. 

It was a jinx in your 
speed. You would not climb on a 
walk without a rope.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

For the beasts and men, 
a transition will not work. 
This was explicit cap― 
the polar ice was melting. 

He will not take the slights 
for the moon. He will 
not go far from the eyes 
of stars. 

Not enough, the astringent 
microbes were peeling off 
your mask. Sometimes you want 
a frugal strangulation. 

Incredible. The words 
were making a mound, out― 
of the space, left by 
the departed fever.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

This was not a witch 
or witchcraft, striking 
a pose to entice the sleep. 

The grass will not― 
listen the earthly 
eavesdropping on moon. 

Some extra neutral 
wine for a resilient poet 
who will refuse to die. 

My color was not black 
nor white. It had the 
golden hue. 

Your nails were very sharp 
digging for a *Digambra 
on my bare chest.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

The words had started to fail me. 
There was always an ‘if'― 
before every war of hunger. 

The candlewick has burned 
out. I am collecting the― 
wax from the eyes. 

Wrapped agony, now lifts 
the dead bird from the 
rose bushes. 

The frosted god 
will melt to bare a 
black stone. 

I am not luck 
I am not the future. 
You know where this path leads into?

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

An amniotic fluid initiates 
the moon to the thunderstorm― 
as you climb the tide. 

Like a stag― opening the 
summer, browsing on 
the daisies. 

It takes sometime 
to sink. This was― 
the peacock hour. 

A finch will land― 
on my shoulder and 
look into my eyes, ritualizing it. 

The glow was real 
in your hair, 
borrowed from the sun.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

Why do I give you the bliss― 
of my poverty? 
The burden of asking, was light. 

Not like the unquenchable 
thirst of a desert. I will be a 
night blooming cereus. 

In exile, I will remember 
your sky, tying the stars in 
my poems, to recall your shades 
when the moon moves away. 

The sunlight throws the voiceless 
profiles of clouds, motionless 
suspended, waterless― dead. 

There is no traffic, no history 
of any scandles. The corners of 
my prayer book have― 
become dog-eared.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

Unfazed you stand in― 
a drizzle, to locate the 
moon nestling in clouds. 

The speed of bite was fatal, 
showing the movement 
of incompleteness. 

I searched the identity― 
of one anonymous, who 
had fathered an illegitimate eunuch. 

I wanted to make a 
confession, looking at the 
blue sky, about my waywardness. 

The crazy thing of mixing 
the flowers, winds, moon and birds 
with serious chores of life. 

Unmistakingly a poem.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

Nestling in the arms of 
blue sky, a young moon was asking 
the questions―like the pages of moth-eaten 
book― why did the blood ties 
are ripped apart with the passage of time? 

Of the same poles, at the 
axis of rotation― two celestial bodies― 
would not come near each other? 

Following the heels of the 
hunter, a small dog star sniffs at 
the earth, a pale blue existence? 

The entropion overwhelms. The 
lashes were scarring the 
vision? 

The all was not one. I am 
still standing at the gate, 
bleeding like sun.

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

Not settled anytime 
between a beast, an angel and the man: 
who was indebted to whom. 

A cyclic ritual it was, to pay the debt 
to the eternal dancer, who 
was, harbinger to catastrophe. 

Not wanted to be judged. 
Fatherless, a shadow moves― 
in the womb of justice. 

Why do the moon was in distress? 
A catmint will improve― 
your vision. 

No artificial insemination was― 
needed. The pungent smell 
would put you off. 

A taste of triangle, lying 
next to the moon 
in bed of water.

The Exemplary Educational Reward

Dr. Rumki Gupta, Eminent Scientist, Psychology Research Unit, Indian Statistical Institute, Kolkata, India has achieved the mindboggling academic cognizance in International Conference on Interdisciplinary Research and Technological Developments, which has taken place on 28th October, 2017 at Hotel Shambala in Kathmandu, Nepal.

Read more ...
 

DEMONETISATION 2016

On November  8th 2016  our Honourable Prime Minister Narendra Damodardas MODI    urf MODIji made a great announcement of “ Chalanbandi “, “ Vimudrikaran “   “ DEMONETISATION  ”.  And from Nov. 9th to Dec 30th he put a BAN on all 500 and 1000 notes.PM Modiji announced on Nov 8th that the high value currency

Read more ...
 

हमसे नज़रिया काहे फेरी हो बालम !

पिछली रात दिल का दौरा पड़ने से देश की महानतम शास्त्रीय गायिकाओं में एक 88-वर्षीय गिरिजा देवी का पिछली रात निधन भारतीय संगीत प्रेमियों के लिए सदमें जैसा है।कल तक वे अपनी पीढ़ी की अंतिम जीवित गायिका थीं। बनारस घराने की इस विलक्षण गायिका को ठुमरी और दादरा जैसी उपशास्त्रीय और लोक गायन की शैलियों को लोकप्रियता का शिखर देने का श्रेय जाता है।

Read more ...
 
Go to top