I cut my finger while sharpening the pencil.
I must sharpen it.
They sharpen their daggers and swords
to spill unknown blood.
But we need pencils sharpened
to save life.
I cut my finger.
A drop of blood oozed out
On the white paper.
I have written all that needs to be written.
A nice poetic imagination, Sharad. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very thoughtful analogy between the two extreme situations. Thank you, Sharad.