Another poem from the lost repertoire. Now that I try to remember why I wrote this poem, I cannot. I -- however -- can recall that I was in a library and my mind was drifting away from books. I took a bit of paper and jotted the poem in a matter of minutes.
I've always been me. A regular guy. I may attempt to appear sensible in my musings. I reckon, I do that only under the creative license that writers think they can weild. Stupid me! As humans we are so fragile. Last night, I cried. For a very small thing. Like a kid insisting on his favourite candy. Not realising that we need to grow up in life and try and be content.
The rebel in us revolts. The kid insists. The candy allures. The heart weeps. The spirit consoles. Life carries on with its many vissicitudes. Ground beneath our feet supports us. Not many souls who walked upon her got what they wanted from life. I may not be an exception. Just one of the legion who wished for too much and got too little.
Some people are tough. I wish I too were! But then I may loose the power to dream, to reflect, to write, to smile, to cry, to love!
Here, I might drift again. The poem:
A cartful of desires
in a life full of mire
Across corners and crossroads
as my cart trundles on
I find no virtues
only evil in flow
Ragged airs in a rude world
indifferent souls with emotions curled
Lonely pangs hold me fast
Uneven tides tear my mast
Narrow creaks in the gabled door
tender worlds I seek to explore
I trod to end of the planet (on my cart)
met only dazzled doves
My love-darts still in my bag
can't shoot, won't throw it away
Everything is so rife
in a short, sweet life.
Poem orginally written in June, 2003