The artist and the poet needs dirt to paint humanity.
His eyes were wild
but in him was found the heart of a child.
The souls around him stood amazed
But he was unfazed
Their praise was lost on him.
But the sterilised hearts of his enemies used to cause him grief
they lacked heart they lacked belief
it became evident that as human beings
we need a bit of dirt and not always perfection.
Imperfections made him a character likeable and free
Until him we want to stay and not to see
What it is like to be a real human being!
Jeff Dawson
Mon 25th May 2009 17:28
Hi Daniel, the rhyming pattern confused me a little but good concept, nice one Jeff