A weeping willow was telling
a trove of memories,
for an ancient provenance
where the lake sleeps.
Why the sheen of water brings out
ephemerality of ‘if’. You want to
take a holy dip, never to come up again
in the throes of birth and death.
And waves, why they clap when they
are hooked up with the winds? Was it
to marry the sky? I am counting
the stars fallen to the street.
Back to the moon in skunk night
of slimming curves and opulent
nose for a ride in bed, sorting out
the remaining stones.
Satish Verma
—————————
STONING
A weeping willow was telling
a trove of memories,
for an ancient provenance
where the lake sleeps.
Why the sheen of water brings out
ephemerality of ‘if’.
You want to
take a holy dip, never to come up again
in the throes of birth and death.
And waves, why they clap when they
are hooked up with the winds? Was it
to marry the sky? I am counting
the stars fallen to the street.
Back to the moon in skunk night
of slimming curves and opulent
nose for a ride in bed, sorting out
the remaining stones.
Satish Verma
—————————
STONING
A weeping willow was telling
a trove of memories,
for an ancient provenance
where the lake sleeps.
Why the sheen of water brings out
ephemerality of ‘if’.
You want to
take a holy dip, never to come up again
in the throes of birth and death.
And waves, why they clap when they
are hooked up with the winds? Was it
to marry the sky? I am counting
the stars fallen to the street.
Back to the moon in skunk night
of slimming curves and opulent
nose for a ride in bed, sorting out
the remaining stones.
Satish Verma
—————————
STONING
A weeping willow was telling
a trove of memories,
for an ancient provenance
where the lake sleeps.
Why the sheen of water brings out
ephemerality of ‘if’. You want to
take a holy dip, never to come up again
in the throes of birth and death.
And waves, why they clap when they
are hooked up with the winds? Was it
to marry the sky? I am counting
the stars fallen to the street.
Back to the moon in skunk night
of slimming curves and opulent
nose for a ride in bed, sorting out
the remaining stones.
Satish Verma
—————————
STONING
A weeping willow was telling
a trove of memories,
for an ancient provenance
where the lake sleeps.
Why the sheen of water brings out
ephemerality of ‘if’. You want to
take a holy dip, never to come up again
in the throes of birth and death.
And waves, why they clap when they
are hooked up with the winds? Was it
to marry the sky? I am counting
the stars fallen to the street.
Back to the moon in skunk night
of slimming curves and opulent
nose for a ride in bed, sorting out
the remaining stones.
Satish Verma
—————————
STONING
A weeping willow was telling
a trove of memories,
for an ancient provenance
where the lake sleeps.
Why the sheen of water brings out
ephemerality of ‘if’. You want to
take a holy dip, never to come up again
in the throes of birth and death.
And waves, why they clap when they
are hooked up with the winds? Was it
to marry the sky? I am counting
the stars fallen to the street.
Back to the moon in skunk night
of slimming curves and opulent
nose for a ride in bed, sorting out
the remaining stones.
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. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (INDIA) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION. He can also be reached at kantasatish@gmail.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
