Old age and the rocking chair.
This then is it.
My life
This one room and the news
Which has nothing to do with me
And I had nothing to do with it
And the greying tea cup
The snow white,emaciated me
And nothing else
I have nowhere to go
And nothing to do.
O good that I cant see
For there is only decay
And rotting away..
Inactivity and time on my hands.
Spectre like ,I hobble around
And feel dust on the couch and floor.
The cushions are all worn out
And nothings like before.
So I rock in my chair
To blot it all out
The stillness and the sound
Still theres no getting around
that life has left me behind.
I suppose I've been presumptous trying to feel what I never have...But i think I know someone who feels like that.
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in this rush to think out of the box ,I forgot to see whats inside.
7 comments:
being presumptuous is ur job.. or u'd never have anything to write abt...
this particular other person's view is better than that last poem.. but that effectiveness u put into each line when it's u urself- a sort of being utterly concise and deadly effective- that still has to come...
this is utterly critical. pls do not be disheartened. i do that to ppl.
criticalness is what i asked for.
Fine i shall now be utterly concise and deadly effective..
But ive forgotten how..
no u haven't... u never cud... that's the way u were born...concise and effective and honest.
Spectre like ,I hobble around
And feel dust on the couch and floor.
The cushions are all worn out
And nothings like before.
So I rock in my chair
To blot it all out
awesome realization and analysis....if you keep on writing like this you will go miles...
your style is appreciable!
er.. thank u mr/miss anonymous.
i already told you... this would be nice, but the rocking chair reference brings unpleasant images of juhi chawla to mind....
Spectre like ,I hobble around...
i like it better when you write from your own point of view. i cannot and will not imagine you hobbling!
then what is it u can imagine me as doing
strutting?
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