A Woodpecker Pecked Wood. Poem by Madrason .

A woodpecker pecked wood.


Pointed in dismay
arranged to be sharp,
my sword moves
a plain battlefield
of bloodspotted ink
which will stay.

Stained by fools
who never learned
to break the
walls of prejudices down,
i frown in surprise.

How can I start
a life that's never begun,
where can i put
my big little toe?

Shocked by my
clodded
tabula rasa,
i break down
and cry.

The field is grained
and dotted
with gray, black
and reds,
on a sunny
display.

A woodpecker
pecked wood,
misunderstood
and then stopped
to learn.....
to be good.
Madrason 30-09-2010