Graffiti: Writing On My Wall

Its eighteen months since her delivery Now she is penning odes ostensibly Crayons in both hands: she is standing tall What Dada says? "No writing on the wall." With great care baby writes her graffiti Not much untouched by her audacity He tries to compromise with a new book but baby says, "Daa Daa"; with a stern look He has to admit the walls are hers now Filled with scribbles and a chromatic cow Its her version of Van Gogh's Starry Night without the stars; a novice oversight She's more surreal than Salvador Dali The writing's on my wall: Pure Graffiti

Request permission to use this poem

Written by

u16102

42 / M / A Sandy Beach

For You?

Explore

Hello PoetryVoting

Write