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Hazy Daisy Poem
"300"
But this won't suffice..
"It isn't exotic to pay such a price"
How my sleepless nights and joy forgotten
If this isn't sold my family shall be trodden
The society seems correct when they say
This "mere hobby" will not pay
What special lies in these brushes and blobs
They say
And I like a fool listen in dismay
"Anyone can sketch and smear"
But who does understand
To me my canvas and strokes are dear
Today I have a family to .. feed
This brush and a small thin paper was my toy
Oh! How much I loved painting
Nature felt like a colouring book
I admired God's painting skills
sitting by the clear water rills
But my father-his hands knew stone
A sculptor of the village yet unknown
With chisel and hammer, he carved with grace
Yet despair always shadowed his face
No one saw the Gods he shaped
The lifelike eyes, the figures draped.
No one paid for his gifted hand
For art,they said,was worthless and bland.
As a naive child I thought
I would not face what he had seen
But here I am
Sitting beside the road with eyes so keen
Looking up at passers by
Is there a heart to listen my cry?
My paintings layered with dust they stand
Painted by a hopeless hand
I bring them here
I take them home
In my mind despair begins to roam
Do I betray my soul to survive?
Or betray my family to keep art alive?
People stop, people see,
Their gazes filled with pity for me.
Someone halts, someone asks,
"What’s the price?"—a moment that lasts.
"1000," I say, hope in my voice.
"Huh," he scoffs—like I have no choice.
"300," I sigh, lowering my gaz.e.
"Okay, sir," I nod, masking the pain.
For a man who has faked a meal outside,
So his family could eat with stomachs satisfied,
Tonight, perhaps, I’ll finally sit at the table,
Not as a starving artist, but as a father—stable.
Copyright © Hazy Daisy | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Hazy Daisy Poem
On a night like this
I often sit and think
where is the tinkle in my eyes
It's lost
Lost in shadows deep
where echoes weep
On a night like this
I feel a silent ache
Tears cascade like autumn rain
Lost in a world of lingering pain
On a night like this
When moonlight whispers
shadows dance
Heartbeats echo
a mournful trance.
On a night like this
when my inner child wails
I see behind
all the bloody trails
Red from the wounds that once used to bleed
Now for which no attention I need
On a night like this
when a distant star gleams
the canvas of my life screams
Burning sensation of the strokes it's fed
It's liveliness which now is dead
On a night like this
when I reminisce
the hugs of sadness,the tragic bliss
Wilted roses, memories fade,
In the garden where hopes once played.
A somber symphony, the heart's refrain,
Echoes of joy drowned in silent pain.
On a night like this
when the raindrops kiss my face
Silence holds me in it's somber embrace
Raindrops mimic the tears that fall,
Echoes of a melancholy call.
Broken verses, a tale untold,
In the book of sorrow, pages unfold.
On a night like this
when the moon caresses the scars unseen
And beautifies the gaps within
Through the tears, resilience grows,
In the garden of pain, a heart still glows.
A poetic dance of joy and despair,
In the tapestry of life,woven with care
Through the verses of a mournful song,
Healing melodies slowly prolong.
In the poetry of grief, a resilient art,
A masterpiece born from a shattered heart.
On a night like this...
Copyright © Hazy Daisy | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Hazy Daisy Poem
The midnight hour,a lonely road
She walks alone
A ping she hears- it's from her phone:
"Where are you?"Mum asks in a worried tone.
"Almost there",she texts, moving fast,
Not caring how much time has passed.
Soft music hums within her ears,
The flicker of street lights appear.
But then she hears the steps draw near-
Her pulse quickens, replaced by fear.
"Is someone behind?" she whispers low,
Her heart begins its anxious flow.
She starts to walk, her pace is swift,
The night grows darker as shadows shift .
It cloaks the world in a heavy veil,
Her safety now begins to fail.
"Wait!"-a voice, it chills her spine,
Sweat beads down, she's out of time.
Her hope dissolves like fading light,
She turns, trembling, in the night.
A shaggy man with a gleaming knife,
A cunning grin-he stalks her life.
He rushes close, a predator's grace,
Ready to steal her last embrace.
"Leave me!" she pleads, as he grips tight,
No one to help in the hollow night.
Her screams are lost, her cries ignored,
He drowns her soul wth violent force.
Into the bushes, he's pulled her aside,
Beats her, ripping her clothes with his hollow pride.
So much has happened, yet worse to come-
Her nightmare has just begun.
He tramples her, a fragile bloom,
Crushing petals, sealing doom.
Her bruises spread, her body torn,
Her mind so hurt, her soul worn.
The monster knows his ways too well,
A secret crime, no one to tell.
There she lies, limp , watching his knife-
He's ready now to take her life
She begs with hands that bleed and shake,
But mercy's something he won't make.
A flash of steel, her stolen breath,
She meets her end in silent death.
He flees, his guilt tucked deep inside,
His manly pride a hollow lie.
And there she lays, the forest still,
The waning moon, her final will.
Her rosy cheeks will blush no more,
Her life erased, her grace sore.
A senseless death, a cruel hand,
The night keeps secrets, as it planned.
The monster shall not meet his fate,
Her family mourns, forever late.
The midnight hour, a lonely road,
She lays alone, her story told.
The broken phone again it rings:
"Where are you?" the message clings.
Copyright © Hazy Daisy | Year Posted 2025
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