Tuesday, July 10, 2018




You hear the waves

As they splash onto the shore.

You haven’t opened your eyes,

But you discern the cries of sea gulls,

As you slowly let the sunlight

Into your eyes.

Ah, the reassuring rays caress your face,

As you proceed to the balcony,

Stretch yourself

And let out cha-cha-cha,

Pa-pa-pa sounds between your teeth,

That you’ve learned

While singing in your choir.

A seagull with a fish in its beak

Flutters by.

All white and airborne,

Twinkling on a blue sky.

Out in the horizon,

A turquoise blue trawler chugs by.

Habitat For Wild

The flora and fauna

have a hard time

In winter.

The white mantle

Of snow covers

The branches, buds and barks.

The owl loves winter

As it takes in all

Beings that move,

With its keen sight.

The woodpecker knows

Where the larvae and insects

Are hiding.

It’s Spring,

The landscape gardeners

Have chopped all the trees.

Now the spur is bare,

No more can I see

The deer that came

To greet me,

To chill in the peace

Of the undergrowth,

And partake

Of the wild elderberries.

Man needs new dwellings again,

Alas, the habitat shrinks some more.

When the deer eat vegetables

In Frau Sumser’s garden,

She cries,

‘Inform the official hunter.

They have to be shot.’

The deer are unwelcome guests

In her precious garden.

Now and then

A russet fox,

With a bushy tail,

Comes stealthily by.

Hope the hunter doesn’t get a hint.

His duty is to keep wild away,

From human domiclies.

If he doesn’t shoot,

He’s a bad hunter.

If he does,

He’s a bad guy.

And so the habitat dwindles,

For the wild.

Lost Friendships

When old friends

Go asunder,

What remains

Are memories,

Of moments

In tranquillity.

When world tremble

And words shiver,

When lips vibrate

And nothing comes out

Of your larynx.

Just the uneasy

Breath from your nostrils.

The silence and solitude

That prevails,

When friendships

Have lost their meanings.



Become embarassing.

And words become superfluous.

The old wounds bleed again,

Causing pain,

That come like sea waves,


Stab and go.


SATIS SHROFF writes poems, sings in a men's choir and is based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction). He also likes to illustrate his poems with his own art and writes in German, English and Nepali.