A skull rocking sky-rumbles,
spills over rooftops,
salvos shake mind-cradles,
bruise landscapes.
I return home to a house
crouching under a pressing menace.
A tormenting sky slowly passes by,
nonetheless, I won't leave here
until my timid tabby cat
leads the way.
Categories:
salvos, poetry,
Form: Free verse
In the frozen grip of winter's chaperone,
Cinderella gets walzted in like a dirty faced hussy.
As light and darkness stand side by side
in a battle for her supremacy.
Godmother has the ground vermin rousted up
from their hidden abodes.
Busy fashioning her apparels and pearly things.
But kissing in their modes.
Dreams that have lied dormant promise the moon,
meets with sunbeams fresh advances, with golden threads of dress-up in swoon.
New pickup lines and peer reviews
to peak at her pinnacle lines.
Fresh new light clings to the hem of misty morn,
sown at her delicate feat, like diadems.
Promised in consecrated dew-drops newly born.
The fowl caress the air in synchronized swim,
in salvos of savoir faire,
bannering rehearsal,
the reversal of Death's Nadir.
Much work to do in presenting.
Gonna have a good show.
Godmother tends to her proper dress.
Tries to tone down her exude of amoress.
Winter looks tacitly, concerned-
from the cold distance,
but is lit up by the way Spring looks back
in her gratitudes,
when she turns,
bows and curtseys at her complicit,
Majesty.
Categories:
salvos, art,
Form: Ode
Awake another day without you here
Your gift of years so precious as my wife
I still can hear your voice so crystal clear
That sound a treasured echo of a life
I hurry out of bed to be on time
With thoughts of us together oh so grand
Arriving at our special place sublime
I close my eyes and see us hand in hand
This secret wooded place was ours to share
Fresh sunlight filtered through the leaves of trees
Our early morning rendezvous so dear
It’s timeless message strengthens one who grieves
Look for the light while passing through shadows
Aware that shafts of light quench life’s salvos
Categories:
salvos, death, hope, life, light,
Form: Sonnet
Those are scary things that hide in the shadows
I hope they fall off the edge, to the gallows
When they rise from deep; haunting skills with salvos
I hope they drown before reaching the shallows
Frightened; minds tear so easily, at the seam
Fears unchecked; fast turn, from whispers to a scream
Oh yes, I'm afraid of the darkness, my loves
But I'm comforted; that our souls will rise like doves
Categories:
salvos, dark, deep, fear, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
A push-button blood alarm
scans the receptivity of softly ticking ears.
It is the ever-wakening
never snoozing
internet jungle calling.
Fasting birds as large as velociraptors
insist on being called parrots,
a raucous conversation hardly heard
as it filters through
3-D printed flugelhorns.
A cell awakes vibrates within an ear socket
demanding its early morning diaper change.
Little silver bells are clanging,
A sub-audial cacophony of eager voices
discharging their erotically-charged salvos
Devices cry to be fed.
Now subliminal texts tattoo
a finger pulsing moment.
Thumbs are itching to be mugged, in-plugged,
abused in a bath of warmed-over news.
The scaly parrots are now too loud to hear,
we are near
our minds nailed to a printing block
and tapping impatiently
as reality is swiped this way and that.
The racetrack is galloping,
white rabbits are being
yanked out of top hats so rapidly
we can only blink our replies
in a hand-held, wide-eyed chameleon sky.
Categories:
salvos, poetry,
Form: Free verse
the war is waged,
around me and within me,
the flavor filtered in the air, lilac,
battle lines drawn, us and them,
no middle ground,
in bloom at the fringe of a field of wild flowers, lilac,
salvos cease, aggressions abate,
as the priority of meadow usurps the importance of upheaval,
the flowers bloom.
Categories:
salvos, black african american,
Form: Free verse
Raging Red nailed by reason to controlled anger
Shaded disappointment lies deceit corroding grey
White like the bathroom cleaner You swallowed
The smell of empty boundaries transgressed
Rusty razorblades oozing blood and manipulation
Distasteful taste of rotting matter mottled flesh
Colouring outside a medley of confused emotions
A striking demonstrative match incinerating
Abusing trust respect compassion care and shooting
Salvos like a paint ball onto pained grave canvas
Surely a polychromatic cry for helping with the
‘What’ the ‘Self’ the self-destructive saturation
But mind you this is a chance now one opportunity
To link from dot to dot your bleeding droplets
Yours to own disown your brush to break or stroke
31st 2018
Categories:
salvos, depression,
Form: Free verse
Music was his passion
from his yearly years,
his voice, his weapon -
the signature of his life.
In his compositions
there is freedom for all Nations,
freedom for everyone,
in his astounding sounds.
In his uplifting melodies,
he can transfigure
the man for better being,
be it homeless man
or the corrupt ruler king
and so noble is his music
as Paderewski only could be
in the salvos of his tones.
Categories:
salvos, life,
Form: Verse
A fragile pistillum sways to conceal
the sperms in pestle. Unilaterally fired salvos
were increasing. After the dig, bodies in the
debris were popping up daily. There
was no truce for brothers in arms. Struggling
to hold on the humanism, anger was rising
from the white paper.
A sense of lost is weaponized. There is
a mix of solemnity and hurt. Pacemaker was becoming
a slave, will not respect cadence. Obscurity
must take refuge. The golden lined clouds
were enduring the sun.A howitzer fires at moon.
It was time to find the anchor, shoving aside
the mortgage of life.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
salvos, art
Form: I do not know?
A fragile pistillum sways to conceal
the sperms in pestle. Unilaterally fired salvos
were increasing. After the dig, bodies in the
debris were popping up daily. There
was no truce for brothers in arms. Struggling
to hold on the humanism, anger was rising
from the white paper.
A sense of lost is weaponized. There is
a mix of solemnity and hurt. Pacemaker was becoming
a slave, will not respect cadence. Obscurity
must take refuge. The golden lined clouds
were enduring the sun.A howitzer fires at moon.
It was time to find the anchor, shoving aside
the mortgage of life.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
salvos, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: I do not know?