Christable Anon started with a riddle that she was told, is a poem when she was in class III as sudden as one mad afternoon menstrual start. And then she realized she has to walk miles with words. She ventured impulsively, honestly, true to the sensibilities of her surrounding, and unaware of time and event she grew up along with her poetry. Works here are evidences of her makeover; few dedicated few self-explanatory.
You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Joseph Joubert
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
I just felt...
Imagination is like the firefly on my left eye it attracts all my attention into oblivion
when i come back, few are still wriggling like freshwater fish in the fisherman's basket.