The WFY

CANVAS OF PHANTOMS

The canvas was enormous..,

But the artist was short of time and hue.

Am I there in your sky?

Asked the Sun to the broken brush

You shine in a yellow dot on day.

And blood shed on the west, later

Am I there? The cloud broke down

And the canvas trembled with lightning and thunder.

Am I there in your canvas?

The cuckoo recalled a forgotten spring!

As butterflies were pressed to splash colour…

The rainbow crowned the sky.

The bunny sat on the crescent moon for one last time

A pot of hue overturned on the night sky

And the stars blinked in dismay.

Am I there Artist?

Whispered the wind in its last breath…

Came from nowhere and existed nowhere,

Lillis and daffodils lifted their tiny hands

Give us little space on the borderline…

To smile at tomorrow…if there 

The rivers rushed from mountains 

But hijacked on its way..,

The oceans roared in protest 

As the desert swayed its magic wand

Convulsions of aquatic life was for a few minutes to forget.

Wilderness disappeared in a dull hue,

And wild life was fossilized in huge rocks.

The defile transformation is complete

Contented the barbaric iron man.

He amputated the hands of the artist

In a primitive ritual,

And hung the picture with golden frame

On the face of a stripped earth.

A note fell from the severed hands

Phantoms of yesterday!

A poem by Briji K T

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