Short Sterility Poems

Please don’t whisper Cupid’s brutal name
Salvation’s ghost can’t quell my shame
My heart pushes only blood
Through unproductive mud
Waste festers inside
No trace of pride
Pulses though
Without
You...

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Becoming scattered, 
the winged visitors 
in my chest.

Is there a home? 
for sane thoughts in the jungle? 
of unthruths ?

How long I will
 continue my journey 
in search of grass ?

Satish Verma...

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Womb
belonged to her

steps crossed the doorstep
found limbs
and forbid them to cry

sterility painted
palm
came close
stopped at skin
she will be safe
 
there was no one
to
by lambs blood
cover
above door of
the house which used to call home...

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In the world

There is not barbed wire fencing of romance,
not sterility of bull story,
not indigestible speech of life

There the independence is as the multiform mind
where changing comes daily
but, as the worsen jaundiced body

There despotic reign
writes by left hand
the forehead of grave
in a little period of masquerade game


- Tuesday, July 16, 2019 Chattogram...

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Good poets are born, not fashioned.
The masters of sterility
write verses in prose and christen
them in the name of Poetry.

Meters are measured arrangements,
rhyme is correspondence of sound;
But devoid of inspiration
results, if ever, rarely found.

A poem must be a poets breath:
On inhalation he creates,
the exhalation, he narrates.
Breathing life into words once dead....

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