Pretext.

Given sets:

  • white, light, right, night
  • be, see, free, tree
  • moon, tune, soon, noon
  • weigh, day, lay, stay

I have been a Samurai by heart,
during the night.
And a humble nothing by sort,
during the light.

I used to be made brown by the white;
for I belonged to mahogany.
I took a left;
for I was hunted by the right.

I wished something than longed;
little done by the wronged.

I craved to be something like a tree;
nothing that could bound the will of free.
I stepped by the cave of see;
to know what I was meant to be.

I was dawned by the tint of the moon;
primed by the hue of the noon.
Wish I could sing my tune;
in search of the quill I would then go soon.

Only I knew what the pretext meant,
mourned by the sow of blunt.
For what I thought was by day;
was bowed down by the neigh of weigh.

I assumed the punch of gravity was to lay;
the surface of pretext which was to stay.
Little to the grumbling face;
I joined the crunching race.


This poem has been submitted as an entry to Rhyme Time: A Poetry Challenge, on Poignant Painter

 ~Anusha Sridharan

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