DR. T. VASUDEVA REDDY
The beggar’s bowl was
empty with dust
A heap of bones wrapped
with skin
Feeble to hold a stick
at the door
A faint voice, too dim
and ghostly,
Came as though deep from
a dry well
His bare feet tottering
on the burning soil
His thorny head an
inverted hot pan
He stood a rooted tree
and begged alms;
The mistress of the
house in silk sari,
With bare arms, stood by
her lover
Smiling for nothing on
the balcony;
The wealthy man daintily
holding
A tempting silvery plate
of bribery
Threw a piece into the
cracked bowl;
A bitch came in time and
devoured it
The dusty bowl smiled at the moving master.