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Kissing Cauldrons

Putting the fire in mouth
as a last rite
he readied himself for the onslaught
of questions, who will attack like
leeches, the blood sucking parasites.

It was a bizarre coalition of love
between kissing cousins.
The knifing will continue with
weapons of death. The suckers will neither
kill you, nor keep you alive.

At what price to get the ice from the Mt.Himalayas.
An abode of god was nursing the blood stained
footprints of men, the escalating war
and dripping mane of black sun.
Huge clouds begin a chorus of dark light.


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 “Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. This is magic, profoundly soulful. In a lone, long journey Satish Verma is still discovering himself. Beaten, betrayed, felled, he comes back with fierce velocity. His childhood was traumatized by India’s partition. Terror, violence and death were witnessed which built the morals of poet. Becoming defiantly recluse Satish Verma pursued his value based life on the path of truth. Teaching Botany for 35 years he was writing poetry, privately and solemnly and published twelve collections. Worked silently with social causes. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (India) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of Sewa Mandir.”

Satish Verma