Artist Singh poem
I am the Black Widow
in the land of the rich and powerful.
Though webbing is freedom of expression,
they will stop you at their own discretion.
If you don’t pay heed, they’ll kill,
yet the widow fights the creature’s evil will.
It was a day when the winds were calm,
and the conversational fire had died in arms.
The water tasted good…and “X the Artprize…I should?”
It’s not a protest, but it’s the name I took, and you should look in the book.
It’s a puzzle made in heaven: in my book, my painting shook the meaning it took.
and there it was: one clue, like water in blue,
but if you stick it with the rest, it will cheat you at best.
If you read my book right, you’re bright.
Number 44 is the one that I like—
it’s an important event that affected my life.
I don’t call it black, and an infamous status I don’t lack,
Only the perception hidden behind the bite.
I hold so tight so as not to bite.
Now that you have an idea of how to reach me,
within the window of your mind come find me.
Open the chest, somewhere in the west,
bearing the great Artist SinGh’s logo.
It’s in the blue, and that’s my last clue.
Will others wait in line to test the truth of time?
Pour out the tears to see it nice and clear.
I know it’s hard to reach, so listen to what I teach:
When you’re breathless and tired, safety’s enquired;
When muscles are sore, it’s not safe to score.