indira babbellapati

(visakhapatnam, india)

A prayer...


Bad boy,
I tell the god
like a small child
who tells the stone
s/he is tripped against.
In no time i smile
like the little one on
spotting a colorful butterfly
or a puppy or a kitten
with wetness hanging
on the eye corners
and damp scars on the cheeks...

Submitted: Friday, February 07, 2014

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  • Tirupathi Chandrupatla (2/7/2014 10:13:00 AM)

    We become children in presence of God. Naughty child can say anything without offence. Nicely expressed in the poem. Thank you. (Report) Reply

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