Shovel a handful earth over me
by the cut of your hand,
as I know not the working of my grave;
the moment I die
it hitches a dig on me
Paint a sky over my head
by the brush of blue blood,
as I know not the colour of heaven;
the moment I dab an empty canvas
silence press on me
Take my heart round a trip
listless I stand caged inside
as I know not the flutter of the wings;
the moment I peep from the nest
dark night prey on me
An excellent” capture”.Apt imagery.Profound.
So much thanks dear Sir Vijay Nair Jee
A doleful confection of a poem that might remind the casual reader of Edgar Allan Poe.
Moving poem full of vivid imagery!