WHY DO YOU KILL ME ? WHAT HAVE I DONE ? WHY DON’T YOU LET ME JUST HAVE SOME FUN ? YOU HUNT ME ALL MORNING, YOU HUNT ME ALL NIGHT; I DON’T WANT TO HAVE A FIGHT!
By Dhrithi (This is an anguished cry by the tiger)
Dhrithi is seven years old, and studies in class 2. She is a highly imaginative and bubbly little girl. She is small for her age, and runs faster than the fastest boy in class. Dhrithi like to recite rhymes, and create stories. She likes to draw as well. This site is an unedited collection of her poems, essays, stories and drawings.
Akashis Dhrithi's brother. He is fourteen years old. He loves music, and is very good with tabla and keyboard. He loves to read stories, history, and science. He can discuss the psychology of all characters in Harry Potter, with any Psychologist. Akash writes, but occasionally.
Chitra is the youngest of the lot and celebrated 60 years this year. She loves writing as well and has published many articles and stories in Kannada and English. She encourages and motivates her grandchildren - Dhrithi and Akash, in reading, writing, thinking and being creative, just as she did her children. That could be a reason why Akash, has added her name to the blog!
WHY DO YOU KILL ME ? 
4 comments:
Awesome cry for freedom and justice.
I still feel like that sometimes!
'Save me' is the anguished cry of a Tiger!
Dear Akki and D2,
Your tiger post reminded me of one of my favourite poems from school... read on
-Adi
The Tiger
William Blake
Tiger Tiger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
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