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Sunday, August 22, 2010

When poetry cease to exist

Have you ever walked into a coffee shop, ordered yourself the regular cup of brain stimulator and sat down to muse about your life? Looked across the table at the empty chair on the other side and wished it to be occupied by some one. Hold on...Before you make the gruesome mistake...the lady above in the picture is not lovesick, lonely and brooding over some one she is missing. She is just musing!

Musing her existence over a steaming cup of life? Oh, yes, thinking why the ever poetic wanderer suddenly opting for prose? Simply because, poetry is an apt tool to hide the deep seated emotions and prose is helpful in expressing frustration wheeling in the mind. Boring right? So what is boring? Silence? Apathy? Disgrace? The same old face greeting you every morning? The same old words that keep you bowed down and submit to destiny?

Look at that thoughtful face? There sits a common woman, thinking of a journey, a life, an existence she was forced to fit herself into. That chair in front of her, is still empty. What? Are you considering to approach her and ask her whether you can share a cup of steaming beverage with her? She might nod, she might allow but she will never fail to see that empty chair on the other side of the table. She is not lovelorn. She is not aggrieved. She is simply living life as mechanically as she has always been meant to.

A depressing thought, but a fact that goes on thriving among us without a mention.


D2 said...

Sad, but so very real.
As you aptly said, "a fact that goes on thriving among us without a mention."
I think prose is a wonderful way to let off steam or write something invoking thoughts like you have done just now (in me).

Zave said...

Yes, sad indeed.
But the best part is we hardly get time to ponder on such issues.
Call it a boon or a curse, it acts both ways.

ritesh said...

hmmm.....well worded.......u tug at random hearts