Art

Moon-arms, a numb frozen smile

Plastered pear flesh glued to beguile

Trim-chiselled nose Flask -filled brook eyes

In Electrifying enormous silence

Dead Desert's Dune on parched lavender lips

And Puffed parasol of Emerald Silk for the naked ribs

With all blandishments, the sculpture, Incised in glamorous clay

Well equipped to battle the ageing Play

Tis Touting Infinity to the sublimity of Art

Poor Statue knows not  Stygian valves of Human Heart

Can Mona Lisa ever feel the anguish of snow on Head?

How do Keats' well accounted Urn can sense

The remorseful hours , kicks and pricks when ashes end end burn

How the high-mettled Holy Grail can narrate the Blood's tale?  

Can foreign Stone explain the pelvic outbursts?

From a thousand- yeared-womb instead of bud ; when Volcano erupts?

Dear well versed, artistic sorcerers to turn your Art Eternal

Humans are sacrificed on Altars to be ultimate Mortals

(Copy rights reserved to Paras Ali 2015.