The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. No artist is ever morbid. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. ~Oscar Wilde~
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Oh Doodle Day!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The War
** This was written when I was 15 for a Poetry Recitation Competition. This was how I saw war in the eyes of a teenager. **
The angry blasts of guns roared in the midst ~ A piercing scream filled the cold, still air ~ A thousand footsteps on the run ~ Dead bodies strewn everywhere.
The blood still lay fresh and red ~ The bodies lay still and dead ~ But no one cared, for no one dared ~ Or else, that too, could be their fate.
Screams for help, cries for mercy ~ Were only met by the cold cruel rifle ~ They slayed the men, killed their wives ~ and the children dead, in the violent battle.
This war has claimed many a life ~ From the bitter start, till the grieving end ~ Sounds of wailing from no where ~ Pools of tears and bloodshed, here and there.
The lucky ones escaped death ~ But the rest were left to fate ~ The chances to live were very slim ~ Because rescue came, just too late.
Though they suffered pain, ~ With the crying of the rain, ~ The soldiers showed no sympathy ~ They pointed their guns, and aloud came a shot -BANG! ~ And the rest, was history...
I had run many a mile ~ My shoes all torn and my flesh bled ~ The faster I ran, the further I went ~ My life, was just beneath my feet.
But if I failed, I shall never return ~ My soul shall stay with those gone ~ But if indeed, I managed to escape ~ I shall reach that peaceful land by dawn.
Hiding in fear, but buried in angerI cried, ~ "Why do people start the war?" ~ "To claim all lives? To kill the peace?!" ~ It's not a game at all.
The deaths and ruins made a ghastly mess ~ The war had made it worse ~ For it sparked many a protest ~ It was just like a deadly curse!
Sad and tragic was the ending ~ The war had brought upon us ~ Imagine the innocent lives all gone ~ The war is so unjust.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Numbing Silence
Just to watch me bleed
As your blade twists
Little by little
Watch me wilt
As my colour drains
Rotting on the pavement
In pale sheets of numbness