Short Self Denial Poems

I live in self denial
Can't bring myself to realize
Or even admit the truth
That I'm really black...

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Longing
For Affection
Self-denial, Self-afflicted, Self-fulfillment
What condition caused deprivation?
Starved!...

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All beings
the sacrifice of self-denial
it is the fruit

For humans
a higher sacrifice
It's the sacrifice of the will....

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Self-denial is the doorway
that leads us closer to God.
To lose oneself is to gain
a deeper intimacy with Christ.

Self-doubt is the window 
through which the devil
makes his entrance.



3/9/11  Ash Wednesday...

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Daydreams that confuse my eyes,
transpiring the tears that cry's.
Sinful regret to confuse this simple fate,
once again everything has started after its to late.
Focus on empathy thats stored within ones self-denial,
once again as always, nothing is worth while....

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If reality is meant to change,
Buddhists may be right

The stops and starts of wasted dreams,
to bury in the night

With truth in self-denial,
our awareness springs and grows

The burdens of all conscious thought,
released—once letting go

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)...

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My parents brought me up to be
Self-aware,
Self-assured,
Self-motivated, 
So I could live with myself,
And choose friends who make me smile.



They did not bring me up to be
Self-centred,
Self-serving,
Self-promoting
So I could live in self denial,
And choose friends that are vile....

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Let  your  eyes  be  as  usual  wild 
It  only  shows self-denial  honesty 
Do  not  turn  your  voice  any  more  mild 
Let  your  eyes  be  as  usual  wild 
It's  proved  you  are  still  a  child 
Once  in  a  while  little  bit  naughty 
Let  your  eyes  be  as  usual  wild 
It  only  shows self-denial  honesty...

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it maybe..
        self-denial
nothing remains
          but regret
longing 
         with desire:
thoughts
day-dreams
          mere memories
          spoken
                 by chance
curious pulses
            in me
of which..
      no escape..
       ...and
             ....yet
      
an adapted found poem form...

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I love you in poverty of 
words;
when you are not seeking
anything.

A dusky strength, self-
deprecating, 
holding forth the virtues of 
self-denial.

What was the awareness of 
a blind ?
Of shadows of migrating birds 
in moonlight ?

Hold my extended arm. May 
be you can fall, 
looking without eyes in the depth 
of the sea.


Satish Verma...

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misplaced worth,
unknown hurt.
trying so hard,
failing every time.
shame so bad;
like a crime,
my means doesn't fit the end.
trying to bend the goodness,
until you can not get out of a bad experience.
seen always as being less:
atonement of hurt,
self-denial of the truth,
that I did on my own accord.
my will left tainted,
trauma on my will, spirit, and soul left unpainted....

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I live within the black that hides within my eyes
Living each day to die a little more 
Hate the thing i have become
and becoming less than the some
Feeling the surface
and knowing there is no depth
Convince my convictions to conceive
Sift the self through a single grain
And hide inside the brain
that give itself its name
The loser is lost
and humanity my shadow ghost...

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The moon titled her head 
and went inarticulate 
in black and white.

Seeding the earth with 
stupor, undoing my? 
poem in water.

An asteroid crashed in 
my blue lake. Sit beside me, 
I would say to a songbird.

The cardinal sin was 
to abandon the throne 
and climb down at night.

What was the designer’s 
love, I will ask, when I 
was preparing myself for a self-denial.


Satish Verma...

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Simeon the Syrian
born in 390
carried to extreme
self-denial and mortification. 
For thirty seven years
he resided atop a six foot wide pillar
seeking redemption, 
giving advice to peers,  
and preaching the word.
From about ten feet high
to seventy feet,
new pillars stood closer to God.
His legacy carried on to 1900 AD
as new martyrs came forth 
to continue his word.

*From Greek “Stylos” meaning Pillar
© Apr 10 2010...

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When an embryo was growing in a petri dish
I said this is it my adieu
for I am now ready for a new journey of self denial
a skull in my lap
after the abdication of ancient fear
the eyes of buttercups poked with hot iron rods
a hoe breaking the neck of a bowed man
to humanize an ugly beast
my fragile hands make a cup to collect the light
of a fading sun to pour on the stillness
of the dream’s dark roaring
that’s how a pinned butterfly becomes
resigned for capitulation


SATISH VERMA...

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When you were rolling in dust,
a puritan said, truth was me.
It was getting dark in Himalayas.

Black words, black themes.
You have started a journey in daylight
in a hot desert of fear.

Tormented, because of the heat
of arguments. Mimicry makes you sick.
Mocking birds fly straight for lofty peaks.

Self-denial was hurting sometimes
against copious rewards and  generous handouts,
like pinned on a totem.

The happening must start
with hidden promises of price.


SATISH VERMA...

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