With a cigarette on the mouth, you dreamed of the world to be under
your feet. Hsuan-tsang, Magellan, Livingstone, Colonel Suresh Biswas
used to be there in your mind. The world, the journey, the unknowns
used to attract you more than the tender loves and the addictions
that your friends used to be submerged in. By twenty-eight I would
pay of the loan, and will deposit much money to roam, to trot around the world,
you had planned and had lived by it. But, life is what unplanned meetings are like.
Never knowing the happenings. Now, at thirty one you are fat, and working to be
afloat in the world. The urge to respond to the call world gives had been categorized
as wild fantasy, as some teen age bull shit; the truth is to remain afloat amidst all the
things. The poem thus remain, the stories thus remain. The cigarette at the mouth
now is little lengthy and costly; the dreams, of the growing up years, are only there
buried deep inside the grown consciousness of the man, of you, of me.
Today’s the poet 31st Birthday.
Written for Day 20 of National/Global Poem Writing Month 2019.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that “talks.” What does that mean? Well, take a look at this poem by Diane Seuss. While it isn’t a monologue, it’s largely based in spoken language, interspersed with the speaker/narrator’s own responses and thoughts. Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life. You might incorporate overheard speech or a turn of phrase you heard once that stood out to you – the idea here is to get away from formally “poetic” speech and into the way language tends to work out loud.