Short Curtly Poems

A dynast in the storm-razed
polity will ask-
for a pardon.

By choice there was
no suicide. You will
eat the clouds one day.

Taking the brunt,-
living  near the sea of
people, a window goes shut.

Curtly, with
levitation, the wind
twists, one and everybody.

An owl tattoo, will 
tell it all. The hurricane
has reached your door.

Aftermath was a 
conspiracy of silence.
Every one was speaking of landfall.


Satish Verma...

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During the pre-evening liturgy
Betwixt a shabby stall
Irate I sit scribing seasoned verses
Silent as an infant in production

Whilst the slaughtering of pacifism
Across the universe ‘tis my soundness
Perforated by the eerie current
‘Twas delivered via the vapors of her breath

Curtly, such graphic memories gnaw the very bones
Of what I had thought to be timeless romance
Though once again I’ve been forsaken
To drink all ‘twas left unsaid and unknown...

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if there was no poetry, my dear,
even kisses and hugs would be confined.
your lips without color,
your cheeks with no pinch,
the cold crass wind that teases on the ship
would cease to exist.
seasickness an existence without words,
the dash on the rocks
would curtly say: he’s dead, with
no forlorn lover’s expression of grief.
the lighthouse absent
no God present
a wasteland of words
no words at all…

1/23/2020
Sponsor: Silent One
If there was no poetry contest...

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