There isn’t much that now you can do
So have a smoke and melt in the night dew
Listen to the tick tock of your pocket clock
Wondering if naught is all, all things come to.
Or probably you can have a beer
And look at your despicable self with a sneer
Mediocre you, always knew,
My efforts were impotent, there or here.
So sip the whiskey, soda and scotch
Sit alone on the backside porch
Lo and Behold! As the truth be told
“You were always useless”, Says the watch.
मोड़ते हुए, मुड़ते हुए;
तोड़ते हुए, टूटते हुए;
दनदनाते,
हम लोग,
आगे बढ़ते हुए..
This piece was written today morning when I was driving to my office. My first poem in present continuous
The man who sings hallelujah
on the cobbled street in corn market,
does he know?
That his words ride the breeze
and enter the pasty shop,
tiptoe on the book shelf,
smell a dark chocolate,
laugh in the lovers’ ear,
repent on the church altar,
then swing around the coffee machine
before piercing my heart?
Chocking my neck,
overwhelming me, part by part?
This piece was inspired by a man playing/singing you-know-what in Corn Market Street in Oxford. It was dusk and a slight breeze was present. I was sitting in the courtyard of ‘Church at North Gate’ with Shveta and having a flavoured coffee.To listen to the original song, click here . This is Rufus wainwright. Original is by Leonard Cohen.
