Short Coffer Poems

golden goose pretense
of an au courant coffer —
rags rich on his breath

1/5/2021...

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my body a temple
the holder of my heart
you hunger for one
and starve the other
a treasure I offered
a coffer for all
you consume till you're full
and push back from the rest...

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I turn on the TV and see Johnny's latest ad;
Butter's not cool but it's more money in the coffer.
The true anarchist in this equation is my dad
Who will only buy Country Life if it's on offer....

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Try me today,
as if she made the offer,
I searched in my pockets,
as if searching the coffer,
It was really no good,
I was broke and in woods,
I looked at her very wry,
smiled and made an offer,
Here I am would you please try....

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SPIKED SECRETS

wings in spiked red sauce
...flappable supper
...disemboweled coffer

under linen cloth
secrets away its latches
and old silk lining

feet pressed against chest
ill at ease...Harker’s knocking
knees..banging back wine

5/2/2018...

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Graying clouds, faces
Sprinkled with tears of sorrow...
Deepening thunders

Howling winds, braces
Buffeted by ghastly breath...
Trembling ropes and spikes

Blowing rains, vases
Overturned near grave diggers...
Strewn flower petals

Clearing skies, races
Blanketed the pink coffer...
Gifting her gray vault

Waning tears, faces
Leaked with canopy waters...
Tossing earth within...

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Heart shaped
Coffer caressed
Sanctified with
Angst confessed.
Aplenty times
I've oft spoke
To mahogany
Grains I stroke
There endures
Reminiscence past,
 Promises
Bond to last.
Until death
Do us part,
Engraved on
Bereft heart.
Sometimes it's 
Grief that’ll hold,
Treasures more
Priceless than gold.
Aches that burn
Deeper than pain,
When only 
Ashes remain....

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Running
6-14-2016
Tom

I wrestled with darkness, searching for light,
Having worldly things housed in my coffer.
At next cockcrow became my last flight,
My broken heart was all I had to proffer.

Then all at once a conversion came about,
I began to weep and didn’t understand.
But immediately knew I wouldn’t bail out,
My heart was stirred by God’s loving hand.
...

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Me’ Fury

Me’ fury, ensue, inasmuch of the bullies; my halo es leaning, me’ grimace is beaming, my hand on the hilt, mahound be at awe, es me’ duty

Sheathe the’ inedible reach, lid thy albinism duress, your forehead me’ claymore to rest, snipe fell manual take topheth, down to the cove shall descend 

Coffer, tricely  Mankind, pending another one come, donion debar de devil, Lord with the wade, or bis mein Woden o hoard...

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that has been, was so raven
that you were hugging vanity
for the deportation of death
as a living;

fake predicates of a genius
like words falling as bucketfuls
of lies,

back to back coffer dams
collapsing, submerging

seers’ sarcophagi,

and the annual rings were becoming
deeper, mossed in misery,
his book of moon blackened,

goodbye, the dark unsinkable,
I am going to be reborn
in the abyss of my own sorrow


SATISH VERMA...

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