The artist’s board
Caressed by a new canvas
Colorful,but speaks volumes
Of a lady and her journey
Like a ripening fruit
About to blossom
She was forcefully plucked
Beguiled and swayed
Such like an oak tree
Dancing to winds symphony
Coerced forcefully by the reapers
With the blame on her innocence
Bitterly accused on her choice of clothing
What else is to blame?
For the infant child with no mind of hers
Eaten away into waste
Perhaps her smile was seductive too?
Or rather her playful blabbing?
Will her clothing still receive the blame.
Or the hellions and ghost like creatures
Who commit this foul acts
Usually channelling the blame on the devil
Who is sitting peacefully in hell
When the devil is in between their legs.
Looking for where else to devour
I pen this ode
For the joyful Jolà
Sent to her uncle’s place
For the treatment of malaria
And was rather treated of her virginity
As the panacea to her health issue.