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Description
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving, but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

~Stevie Smith

I just based my picture on the title "Not waving but drowning", I forgot the rest of the poem. I havn't drawn a man's hand, I don't think that matters. But after reading that properly I think I can improve on it. In my book it says
"This prismatic poem has become an emblem of the ironies and absurdities of postmodern life, when appearance and reality have grown grotesquely far apart."

Description
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving, but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

~Stevie Smith

I just based my picture on the title "Not waving but drowning", I forgot the rest of the poem. I havn't drawn a man's hand, I don't think that matters. But after reading that properly I think I can improve on it. In my book it says
"This prismatic poem has become an emblem of the ironies and absurdities of postmodern life, when appearance and reality have grown grotesquely far apart."