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Satish Verma

Rookie - 782 Points (5-6-1935)

Words And Passages


Defining the borders
with guilds,

a body hangs on a rope
mauled and fabled.

I am making a fool of myself
to find your hand.

Watching the world upside down,
the ailing Buddha─

was dying. I don't own the day.
Tomorrow will not remain yours.

Submitted: Saturday, July 05, 2014
Edited: Saturday, July 05, 2014

Topic of this poem: poem


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