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
Madrason writer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-woodpecker-pecked-wood/
