Satish Verma

Gold Star - 35,967 Points (5-6-1935)

Biography - Poem by Satish Verma

A name without
a face. I am an ancestor

A shortened height,
difficult to exult
in honors bestowed.

The light hurts, in
earthen cave. You write
on wall of conscience.

The mud clings.
Stink covers you, like
serpentine arm.

The arbor has many
colors. I will choose
none in dark.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 17, 2015

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