Short Roofless Poems

seeing a rainbow
summer dream of roofless life -
Comfort in God's niche?


Brian Johnston
December 19, 2015...

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If I mound me white against the breast
Of earth shivering in the embrace
If I cover you with twinkling dust
While you are cuddled in roofless nest
And licked me wet from your face
Will that deny your summer's rage of lust?...

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Pearl – drops
on your upper lip:
heat –
of a stand-off
between
inside and outside.

More spiritual
I become
forgetting
the black eye,
I want to go back
with empty hands.

My home
is far away,
doorless,
roofless,
where dark squints at the moon.


SATISH VERMA...

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Regreting over the past 
when the black ink 
will never wipe out

Be happy here where we are
in this circle of onest lies

When we will look forward to tomorrow 

Live without illusions
that will be better  for others           roofless

Maybe is all faulth 
of the time which 
only our  fire can save...

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There is no roof on my house,
The water pours in when it storms,
The sun shines when its beautiful,
Still I live in my roofless house,
Always awaiting the sunny days,
The days when I lay and bask,
Always awaiting the rain to stop,
Yet the rain is cold, sobering,
And the true life is shown,
Only in my roofless house...

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In the Cathedral ruins

The ghosts seem friendly

Pigeons homely, air sweet

Clouds white with a hint of rain



The drops fall on the roofless relic

Like the ancient bombs

Failings of us all



Trying not to be religious

Humanity should think of itself



A bee gathers honeysuckle

People can love...

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Sorrow climbs
its roofless tower

Descends to be thigh deep – 
genitalia deep.
Now it has the weight 
of rain clouds.

A smoked umber
moves through 
an invisible throat.
Fine hairs
are stroked to arousal.

A drowning wrist
above a whirring hand.
Pressure rubs saturated sounds
from probing fingers.

The belly of a curving drum
thrums, moves us to a place
where nothing matters
but the next note....

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Sorrow climbs
its roofless tower.
Descends to be gut deep,
genitalia deep.

Now it has the weight 
of rain clouds.
A smoked umber
moves through 
an invisible throat.
Fine hairs
are stroked to arousal.
A somnambulant wrist
pushing a whirring hand.

Pressure rubs saturated sounds
though probing fingers.
The belly of a curving drum
thrums, moves us to a place
where nothing matters
but the next note....

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He is not just the one who lives in a street
But, that who has millions and eats beans
Then farts in a narrow spot in Wall Street
The one who has several ID's, names, 
and passports with multiple loyalties
None of them is true
None of them is blue!
Who cannot use his real name nor identity
Like a mouse in dark night,
Roofless scared of others 
Particularly dispossessed snakes, cats,
And generally many more .....

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Stand beside me all the time
In this beautiful world because
Very important to me
And you are my breathe

Kindhearted and caring
Relation with me 
Is unforgettable till i die
Show the same forever
How much ever we fight
Nothing is a hassle
And expecting you will be mine

Pity you left me
Under this roofless world
Valentine,will you come
Very soon and 
Understand my feelings
Love me forever
As like before and ever after....

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There were subtle declines,
still I opted for incompleteness.

A fierce battle was raging.
I think to start my descent

in roofless castle of mania
to watch the self-destruction of a landscape.

Thousands were squatting on mud tracks.
till the dead rise from their ice beds.

Ghostly hands were building the fire
to send the rivers in exile.

Hunger will decide the fate of the earth.
Man was playing with the sands.


SATISH VERMA...

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Capri

roofless cubes, spidery with wire,
cakes of azure and enzian;
above at the Villa San Michele
Rilke smiles down at the broken beaches,
at coves of defiant waves, compacted sea

Pompeii

a chessboard of honest stones
open to a sky of hushed shouts;
we huddle in a boned frame
of another life, a stopped day

Napoli

warm and secret, olive-eyed
an infinite beauty makes a new face
as we gaze ape-like from our bus;
an act of moment...

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I live in a roofless place
I do not have an expensive fur
You might not like the way
I feed myself
And I know, you neither like my presence
nor my appearance
as I'm
drowned with muddy paws
on a rainy day
juddering with runny nose
on a snowy day
and roasted with shiny dirty coat
on a sunny day
Yet under this already darkened
brightness of the sun
I'm wounded with heavy pebbles
and threatening rods
and the voices showing disgust.
I'm a stray
But I have a life too....

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