18 March, 2012

A Puppet Hearsay.

Because life is more like a string-driven puppet, the moment the strings are left loose , you lose balance and then it all seems like a dream!


Am a puppet who likes to dance and sing,

In the lime light of this city fair,

The princess I play in my country folk,

Swaying around my city prince, the bloke.

Beautiful colours adorn my face, the lovely crimsons and the hues,

They dance with me oh little one, as they stroke my city’s blues.

My puppet heart just missed a beat,

When the bloke blew me a kiss,

Then cried the cohesive crowd,

As the villain hurtled on his village horse.

The bloke reverently held the stage, and kicked the villains aloof mind off,

Caught up in this web of life, married then were the bloke and I,

Master twirled me, danced away, as the little ones then waved a bye!

Gone are now those wistful days, master and I gleamed at the crowd,

And since my master dumped my strings, I feel slackly all around.


I have never felt in my hands that shake, lest master twirled them left or right,

Now look at them sway to wind, heaving a heavily melancholic sigh,

As the theatre welded this silence abound,
A jarring wind of dust there came,
Along came the misted memories,
As the dust played a catch-me game.
Soon was I to regret or not?
The lime light’s sudden twisted tryst,

Now I know I liked it all, the crimson hues and brimful mists,

And as the dust wavered to settle down,

I watched the sky again turn blue,

Now I know am grey and old, and my masters’ left my string to you.

Humble be my rendition here,

Subtle be my moves,

Am a puppet who likes to dance and sing,

Could you make me groove?