Many Shades Poem by Satish Verma
Many Shades
The brown rice were
not yet ready.
An old man turns in grave.
*
The thingness
was shapeless in dark
Like a sleeping Buddha.
*
Once I told a lie.
The snow started melting
releasing methane.
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poems
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5/3/2024 7:40:10 AM # 1.0.0.1119
