The enchanted field
As
her puff blew away the golden dust
coloring
in rusty grey, the faint glass blue.
She
discovered a canvas with blades
Overgrown
and brandishing a greenish hue.
In
a grotesque mass of blotted white, a
mammoth
with silver tusks took shape.
Her
brows angled to form an acute frown,
for
the drawing to her taste was a sour grape.
Bristles
of magic
As
the faint brush in his fingers
danced
to the song less
tunes of a rhythmic stroke.
The young Picasso beamed
with joy
at
the mystical world he did uncloak.
Rainbows
unfurled on the canvas so white
As
lavish colors mingled in a glowing shade.
Imagination
ran amok in the lush paradise
as his
white elephant grazed the verdant glade.
The stick that never bent
Romancing
her senses was a stereotype idea,
standards
to follow came flying to the fore.
As
the pudgy tusker lay smiling in silence,
her
conceit kicked creativity out the door.
Disavowed
he cried ; banality ruled the roost.
elephants
in grey alone could benefit her boost.
As
he Mocked authority, his art never did convey.
Her
soul’s rage burnt what her words couldn’t slay.
The
white Elephant
Scarlet
crystals he bled, from his woeful eyes.
his white
elephant never did harm even mice.
His tender
heart caved under the slur of a liar.
To none he
owed the bane of her stinging ire.
“If only!”!
he wished tuskers were silver white.
He’d prove
to his teacher; he was absolutely right.
What the
innocent child probably didn’t know!!
His teacher
rode an elephant called bloated ego.
Epilogue
Kill
not the child still alive in me
For
he not has the urge to deceive.
Tiny
fingers they are, spinning belief
Let
them be alone, let them weave.
For,
once the moment loses its shine
it
will never be yours nor even mine.
Let
the world voice my story untold.
Let
me be a kid, I hate growing old.
PS: This poem speaks at length about the war against the dull
routine and the dogmatic lifestyle the imaginative child wages. His painting of
a white elephant notwithstanding, the teacher disavows him. He pines not
knowing the mistake he had committed in giving wings to his creative mind.
Let the children be what they want to be. Their fragile
shoulders bear not any egoistic white elephants but only their li’l fantasies.
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