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Neethu

That was a shed, my preschool,
With a roof of dried palm leaves
A shattering and old one
The teacher there was
An old man with crossed eyes
As a marshal always has a cane
In hand to make us learn
Sitting on the ground, polished
With cow dung, we learn
Alphabets, on sand
Yes that was our slate
We always wait for Neethu,
The daughter, purple eyed,
Of the landlord in the village
Always came in a a bull cart.
She was so cute
It is she made my little heart
Dreaming.Little dreams
Oh Neethu where are you now
I miss you really.

Submitted: Saturday, July 06, 2013
Edited: Saturday, July 06, 2013


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Comments about this poem (Golden Passion by Jayachandran Chakrapany )

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  • Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar (7/6/2013 11:58:00 PM)

    my school also was like that. u must be 75 years old then?

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  • Jayachandran Chakrapany (7/6/2013 3:00:00 AM)

    Thank you respected poet Shahzia Batool for the lovely review.jk

  • Shahzia Batool (7/6/2013 2:28:00 AM)

    A vignette? complete in itself, graphic - one can see it, and innocent as the prevalent atmosphere in this little poem! ! !

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