Short Silted Poems

river silted up
                                                        hates...

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torturous exam
cleansing tides down psyche slide
silted memory
important events recalled
instructor evaluates...

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Running blanket breaks in gloom,
cold and heavy; silted mask.
Distant visions and bubbles bloom,
weakness comes (death at last)....

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An alternative bridge.

Under those same stars black the river grumbles 
below the dark cloak of night grumbling louder
howling in the stirring silted froth black pools
deals death hidden in the still, deep....

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Under those same stars black the river grumbles 
below the dark cloak of night grumbling louder
howling in the stirring silted froth black pools
deals death hidden in the still, deep.


Liberum Divisa contest 8.
Taken from “ An alternative bridge”
3/11/21...

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At the silted banks of river Nile,
I'd sung to the glory of Lucy;
I'd soared high over the echoing Savanna
and fought and bled for Shaka Zulu.
I was first to push back abyss,
the last to be ripped away. I'll
return one day, I'll bring the rest.






------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 12 / 01 / 2016...

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In a tranquil valley with banks dark and deep
Silted streams into dreary conduits seep

Shadows bearing yesterday's light on addled walls creep
Images from the dark recesses around each corner peep

Enchanting winds over the heightened senses do sweep
Animated figures from the bleary crevasses leap

Sorrowful clouds hover; o'er conscience penitent tears weep
In foggy redoubt, guarded fears and  insecurities do heap...

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With the manes of wild orphaned horses,
They nuzzle their sand-children, silted-in
The worrisome surf, spitting out their cries
For moon-lit mothers tit

Then, too long on the belly of the livid beach,
They quick disperse, to reef and littoral
Lava shelf: all this seen from wooden chair 
By author’s pen, which… left to rise and roll
And rise and fall… describes the scene 
(then leaves his period on the page)....

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something that was promised

in quiet moments when 
night creeps on 
toward its soft dawn bed 
I wonder
why we agreed 
so long ago
at this time to meet

who were we then before 
blithe spirits silted 
from our mortal coils 
to lay in unknown churchyard 
or battle field
what was our reincarnate pledge
as sudden as a lightning strike
some where beneath my ribs
you came to me all swirling words

and I knew you...

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Azure streams silted with cotton bows
Green, svelte carpet spreads below
Silken florets on tawny branches glow
Yellow daffodils cloak the meadow row
Purple violets' royal fabric vaunted hills hallow
On servile plain, feathery dandelions spread umbrella
Along hedge rows, creamy honeysuckles with sweet dew flow
In dense, brown brush; fledgling chicks from saffron gapes bellow
On the forest floor; jittery, gray squirrels deplete nutty escrow...

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The late morning light glazes the lake,
pierces, with stems and stalks of lily and reed.
Shadows freeze like lashes upon the limpid surface
of still water fracturing the sky-blue to black.
Iris of earthen orb, brush back the unruly screen of vision,
rub the cinders from night's lingering trace,
awake from the mire of silted dream.    
Let the wind, your laggard lover,
rise a frolicking and remove each lash
with the gentle touch of fingertip....

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A pinch of moon 
in the glass of my wine.

I was looking at  xerophytes 
in timeless zone.

Like  vampire bats hanging 
down from a branch, till eternity.

What a tenacity, I would say. 
The world was not going to end.

I would also not like the continuity 
of any drift or agitation.

You make the water silted. 
Truth of baby innocense-

takes birth again and again 
even the dark energy or

dark matter overwhelms.


Satish Verma...

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My cowardly self, said to my bravest version:
Be not too much,
Be not too less of me.

His eyes were darkly silted ponds,
His hands worn thin,
By the clutch of a shrinking skin.

My courage rose up
Dragon fisted; eagle hammered in the
Shuddering air.

‘Dare me’ it cried
‘Dare this dust to be light,
This feathering of small gods
To step forward and take the terror’.

My cowardly image
Shivered, hid its face
But stayed there quaking 
As the bravest version it could be....

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How fickle is my fissured grief
In the immensity of the space
Where often it overflows 
Overwhelming my sadness.

People come and go
With pomp and trumpetery
But then depart into a vacant
 Without leaving even a shadow.

If I was only a construct
Of the geometry of the space
Dreaming up a new frontier
In crude pathways to chalk
With poetics of my own at stake.

Losing ingrained silted
Concepts of inner necessity
A triad of poem to combat
Imagination of the mind
Destined perhaps for novel start....

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