Ranged along shelves as puppets in plays
We've flattered and flopped or soared and stooped
In scripts that others have fashioned in whims.
Wired in screws that pierce to the bone
Ours are hours of fields unsown.
So fitted and decked in finery and glaze
We cackle and buckle in calculated haze
And wait for the titanium hammers of days
That paste our forms into infertile sand
Which trickle into bell-jars of time.
Severed and sawed into stultifying parts
Ours are figures on en-wrinkled cards.
17 comments:
A fun read!
i would only want to know what initiated into writing this?? is this an analogy of something else..i mean how are lives are scripted and we remain as characters in someone else's fictive/political/societal constructions...
I pose the same question that sayan asked.
an awareness of our constricted lives and the inability to shape our lives as we wish.
Cognizance provides fuel to volition if only in minute portions and short distances.
Belief in free will and indeterminism is the beginning of one's own creation.
Wonderful query piece.
Thank you Nene.I agree with what you said.But then again, be it disease or death, quake or storm, recession or downsizing...free will is never really free.hence the angst that forms the bedrock of the poem.
Really well thought out piece!
I read with interest, knowing full-well that each of us is effected by the world's wind and whimsy. Still, perhaps because I am an American woman, I know without doubt I can set my own sail to manipulate the wind.
I counter universe's whimsy with will and with grace.
This is one of the best pieces of allegorical poetry I've read in a very long time. Really well done!
en-wrinkled cards...great phrase...strong image
There are some things we can change, but there are some things we can't.
Nice images with rhyming words ~
Wow, Abin! The only comment I can leave here is that this poem is perfect - you have not faltered in word or phrase or line. Really superb.
A depthful write, Abin! We only have control over SOME things in our lives.
Well honed use of language, great imagery - and yes, that is one way of seeing our place the world...
Wowzers, kiddo. Smokin' good!
I love the first stanza.
Very well crafted, Abin.
"Ours are hours of fields unsown." OOOOOOOh LOVE this!
Excellent piece! It's full of thought and perfectly written.
Sorry it's taken me so long to return the visit. I didn't forget though!
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