The Skull-Pot Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri

I sit here on the precipice
With my feet dangling
In the dark abyss of time
On the far-line I espy
A pile of neatly stacked skulls
Of large circular eyes
With the mountain air
Hissing through them.
You see other skulls had thoughts
When their holes were eyes,
That wished no brains in them.
Wonder what the old man thought,
When lying on a string cot,
He saw the smile of death
Where the banyan met the sky.