EXPERIENCE

On the crossbar she sat herself;
With broken hand for medical care.
On the road rifle at the ready was held;
Soldiers stentorian orders were blared.
Like a child rent from the mother;
With a start sidled up to the father.
Everybody there was downcast;
I thought the die was the cast.

For the charred jeep by the road;
Villagers were chased like rogues.
Lined in tremor,patches and rags;
With impunity frisked to pants.
Willy-nilly in two trailer trucks.
A Hobson's choice to make tracks.
Through the lonely bushy pastures;
We went down the dreary campus.

Officer goggled at all and sundry;
The batmen behind followed as a duty.
With many in a slum that stank;
I thought that life was at stake.
Barred for three without a draught;
But for seven hunger dropped.
There's more to the event of seventy;
Than meets the eye of the unconcerned.

Red-alert for the worst yet to come;
Immediate release was then the command.
From the prison as dirty as pigs;
From the heavens our dirts were washed.
For years,she was out of sight,out of mind;
But to us unknown that God has planned.

My late dad.

~vicky~:
nice

Indeed!

SniperInADiaper:
Indeed!

~vicky~:
nice

centje:

Awww you are most welcome

This is nice...and deep.

omicron: This is nice...and deep.

yeah,it's deep. He actually shorten the poem. He had an art work attached to the poem. I tried to replicate it,that's the one below the poem...just a sketch work tho'.

centje: yeah,it's deep. He actually shorten the poem. He had an art work attached to the poem. I tried to replicate it,that's the one below the poem...just a sketch work tho'.

I assumed it was from your father. Do you have his?

SniperInADiaper:

I assumed it was from your father. Do you have his?

i cant really recall where the old painting is. He wanted to modify both the poem and the artwork. He was working on both of 'em buh couldnt finish before he passed on. He was only able to modify the poem. Maybe when next i travel home,i will look for the painting.

centje: i cant really recall where the old painting is. He was working on both of 'em(the art work and poem) before he passed on. Maybe when next i travel home,i will look for it.

Nice.