Sunday 11 December 2011

ಚಿತ್ರ ಕಾವ್ಯ-Picture poetry

After his sixty
Karantajja
Started looking like
A grandma.



For a child like me
Whole world seems dull
Without your presence, O Karantajja.



I was giggling in side
On the first day
When you weren't aware
Of my curves and stunned.



The fire of our youth
Turning into the piles of ash...
What a pity...



Sweet heart...
I am also
like a boiling pot.


The pace of old age walk
Seems like the slow foot steps
Following the death.



There is no time now
to listen the sigh of a grass.

1 comment:

  1. Very nice difficult to accept.. 3rd one is really good.....Best wishes

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