Short Uncelebrated Poems

Wooden guardians part reluctantly,
Their threats feeble against my entry.
The gloom adjusts itself in the warm light from outside.

Cold steam billows
Where incense rose and inspired.
Wooden benches,
Unseated,
Apprehend the emptiness.

Old blessings echo off the walls and fall on to cracked tiles.
All around the cracked altar swirl spirits
Invoked in need.
The long empty table,
Unconsecrated,
Uncelebrated,
Unblessed,
Stands mostly
Unused....

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It was a very ordinary day
uncelebrated.
A nephrite sits on the flanks,
I gravitate  between smile and tears.

What will happen,
had not happened earlier,
moon will walk away from the sun,
to sit in dark
unhealed and unsutured.

It was the day of son
of the soil,
beheading by a sword the language and speech.
How can you divide the sky,
the trees, the rivers ?

And the flock descends on the chairs
to watch the art of decapitation.

 

Satish Verma...

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It was a very ordinary day
uncelebrated.
A nephrite sits on the flanks,
I gravitate  between smile and tears.

What will happen,
had not happened earlier,
moon will walk away from the sun,
to sit in dark
unhealed and unsutured.

It was the day of son
of the soil,
beheading by a sword the language and speech.
How can you divide the sky,
the trees, the rivers ?

And the flock descends on the chairs
to watch the art of decapitation.

 

Satish Verma...

Read More

It was a very ordinary day
uncelebrated.
A nephrite sits on the flanks,
I gravitate  between smile and tears.

What will happen,
had not happened earlier,
moon will walk away from the sun,
to sit in dark
unhealed and unsutured.

It was the day of son
of the soil,
beheading by a sword the language and speech.
How can you divide the sky,
the trees, the rivers ?

And the flock descends on the chairs
to watch the art of decapitation.

 

Satish Verma...

Read More