Friday, 29 January 2010

J.D.S.

There was once a man who dug his own grave
Looking for a quiet place to lie.

Country gin,
A gramophone,
Indigo evenings spent alone-
Not too much to ask.
He didn't have to die.


In your cementbound darkness in a nameless smalltown,
In an overflowing cellar with the door clamped down,
Playing your violent blues in the deep underground,
I hope that you found it somehow.






9 comments:

Anushka said...

Shalmi, Shalmi. Someday you're going to write something that'll give the world a shake-up.

blinknmiss said...

I am and will be more sad than a stupid poem can express.

But comments are welcome ofcourse.

joey said...

Boka boka me.To not have realised.

Of course its Salinger!

blinknmiss said...

It is. And you are. But what do you think besides?

topshe said...

I like the overall thingy.

But I dislike the 3 different styles of the 3 verses. Very scrambled, it seems, to me.

Diwakar Sinha said...

you do have a way with words.
a very well written poem..

Riddhi G.D said...

I love the feel this poem's got.

Arse Poetica. said...

You write exceedingly well for your age. Goodstuff here.

Vangmayi said...

Wait, wait! So much yumness, so much prettiness all festooned together!

I likes!