Short Homegrown Poems

I went barefoot and stepped on a stone,
my gait went haywire and I was thrown,
while I was stumbling sideways,
police thought I'm in a haze...
"Honest officer, there's no homegrown!"...

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A restive moon 
went on skirmishing with- 
   the palm leaves in dark.

         *

   There was no 
move to prevent the private 
   fleet of homegrown myths.

         *

   Scores of fallen 
shoots you will find on the street 
   after the violence.


Satish Verma...

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Jaspers are a gifted lot; 
they mimic many things.  
From poppies to a leopard’s spots, 
their pictures really sing.  

It weighs much less than many stones; 
in it you’ll see colored fissures, 
holding abstract stories, all homegrown;
such lovely artsy mixtures.
...

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he was among my hometown's merry eccentrics,

     sort of a homegrown clown full of fun, wit and tricks;

           it was quite hard to tell whenever he nodded

             if he was shooing away a fly on his head

     or was acknowledging you and the gnats and ticks,

          or nodding to a  tune he heard when he was six....

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She's a homegrown, homesick, hometown girl. The one I wanted to become. 
Pretty and slim and sought after the teens I read about in slivers of streetlamp on long roadtrip nights. She's not the sharpest spoon in the microwave, but she's the lovliest flower of the bunch, and honey this youth is survival of the prettiest. Chin up. Grin up. Good luck....

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When light will not
enter the cove,
water breaks in.
	
He jumped to death
with his book in his hands.
The silence starts speaking.

What was this brand
of homegrown belief ?
Truth has been punished.

How big was the murder ?
Realization comes very late.
The path to violence-

was through god. The
somatic victory gets
a gruesome reward.


Satish Verma...

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Silhouette of a sassy
Little sex pot
Trembling in midnight air
By her big white picture windowsill
Captured by a muse she feeds in her mind
Loved by homegrown worshippers
She never really has to leave
Bitter is as bitter does
And what has been seen are her bitter,
Reddened lips
And her fake silk-lined soul
All crazy nail biting 
Vengeance and delusion
Oh the petulant crone!...

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No mansion on the lake

A cottage on the lane

A hub for dwelling sake

Worn wood on windowpane

Potatoes in the bin

A mattress for my bed

A table in the den

Suffice for breaking bread

A garden wrought with weeds

That flourishes in the Fall

But still supplies my needs

When neighbors come to call

Though rustic it may be

Whenever I may roam

I ever long to see

This place that I call home...

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Listen to poem:

Their fiery blossoms swayed against the sky
In breezy weather and Mama and I
played games, describing how
the long, gold-tipped pistils wrote,
on air, sweeping pollen poems.
No eye that saw could help but read.
Their blooms were red against the green,
And in the early morning wet we deemed
We saw the blood of homegrown heroes,
Who died for duty, deftly limned ---
Dreams to occupy two minds
That loved the moves, in wind,
Of red hibiscus past their primes....

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Backwoods and homegrown
Country boy is how I'm known
Cowboy boots and faded jeans
A little rough around the seams
Not a fan of foreign cars
I drink Jack while at the bars
I say yes ma'am and hey y'all
I do some huntin every fall
A 30-30 or 30.06
Thats how we do it in these sticks
Lord I love some good moonshine
Y'all city folks can keep your wine
Your opinion just don't matter
To me, its all just useless chatter
Heaven knows I'm just a country boy
But my life is full of joy...

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