
Oil on Canvas ' The Dancer'

Pencil
An Angel at Sundarizal An angel descended,
Dirt faced, Feather knotted tresses,
In brown tattered dress.
Many of her kinds,
Mostly she struck, And awoke a soul, Left unprotected to fate.
Life devoid of even a tinkle, In complete isolation, Embraced by silence, Sound unknown.
Nothing to hear, Zilch to fear,
Mute to answer, Vacant space outstretched.
Blankness to destiny,
In complete void, Speechless even to protest, An Angle left to fate. Copyright © B. T. Chettri |
Bhagwati! you put life in each of your creativity, whether its an art or a poem you created on your paintings. i had thoroughly gone through it and really enjoyed it. we knew your talent but never knew your are multi talented, really appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteThanks Usha.
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