Satish Verma

Gold Star - 56,808 Points (5-6-1935)

Pride Of Valley - Poem by Satish Verma

When the battle lines were drawn,
the only mandate
for the human torpedo was to blow up
the silence of time.

Sick was the death-struck
new born, praise of the ghost of tiger
in the name of glory of green eyes.
The orange moon was absolutely naked;

the snow dripped in a cave to form a cone
and the valley was burning wide.
The bag of charcoal given
to a shephered had turned into gold-

nuggets at home. The vultured sky
was claiming more bodies.
A miracle was swelling the crowd
and the crown was proud of deaths.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, October 4, 2008



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