Portrait Poem by Tony Adah

Portrait



There is a horde of flies
Feasting on a horde of corpses
In the battlefield
That my country has become
O, Picasso
I can find you no more
Thy feeble hand among them
And brushes and paint
Away from there.
I the identifier
Know the corpses-
Those lying putrid
In the north and a
Fresh one in the south
I will go speak
With Ben Enwonwo
To calcify them
In his sculptures
O, corpses I mean.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: art
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Geetha Jayakumar 21 August 2014

Beautiful poem. Touching lines indeed... There is a horde of flies Feasting on a horde of corpses In the battlefield That my country has become Very true said, even Picasso hand will tremble while making a portrait of such painful images.... Loved reading it. Thanks for sharing it.

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