Thursday, August 27, 2009


They asked me to draw,
I said, I knew not to draw,
They compelled me...
They asked me to make it colourful.

I tried harder and,
Harder, day and night.
They asked if I'd finished,
I hardly had then started.

The glow of the blasts,
Had driven me blind.
I'd not known any color,
Than the color of blood.

Then how do they think,
I could draw? I exclaimed.
I sat for long in front,
Of the canvas, thinking,
thinking and thinking.

Very soon, from my back,
I felt the air moving,
Then came something,
Piercing my body.
I could see my blood,
Splashing out of me.

The wine out of life's cup,
spread on the canvas,
Like the way the droplets wished,
Then I fell, over it,
The drops spread all over it.

They took me away,
Very far from where I sat.
I could see from far;
The art of blood,
I …. No, they'd made.

And I knew I could not,
Neither would I,
'Cause something still,
Lived in me,
I'm a man,
Still a man.....

1 comment:

  1. dis poetry gets my award 4 d best of ol muSickzz

    rock out high!!!