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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

31 December, 2005

The Lover.

He stood shivering
wet skin and dry eyes;
He jingled
jangled tunes
breaking through
torn pocket
wounds.

He lived rough
and pretended to be
oh so tough;
meagre possessions
in a broken cart
a blanket, cigarettes
and a burnt out heart.

Where will he
sleep tonight?
Underneath the
plastic sheet
behind the
garbage bin
fiddlin’ with
her frayed picture
he'd gambled

And
didn’t win.

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4 Comments:

Blogger the Monk said...

nice poem...

31 December, 2005 13:36  
Blogger pRaTik said...

Sometimes world is so beautiful and the very next moment it becomes dull and full of sorrow, it is impossible to describe such situations using words. As a writer(poet) I always have seen only one central theme of the story(poem), why are we looking at the person with hardly anything left, why can't we look at him with heart full of so much of love. why dont we portrait him positively..!!

03 January, 2006 22:09  
Blogger scribe said...

Like one of those Cohen / Dylan lyrics. I think the "jingle, jangle" started me crooning right into the burnt out heart. Want to go the longer lyric way?

17 January, 2006 11:24  
Blogger suniti said...

Very nice:) As Scribe said, the words 'Jingle - Jangle' catch our fancy :)
A true honky tonk era Hobo :) The whole world loves a drifter who cries over his long lost love I guess.

22 January, 2006 17:47  

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