What seas what mountains what planets
Or a honeymoon cottage on an exotic isle
with a bride on hire to suck the lust
What car what villa what gadget
Or a smorgasbord spread out in paradise
Where does it end, this pursuit?
How many millions or billions should the bank balance be
How many villas and hectares will this body need
How many parties bacchanalian and rumbustious
Before I hear the music in the background?
Note: This is the first poem I've written in years. Maybe, when you sit idle with your foot caged in plaster of Paris poetry forces itself into your soul. I have an excuse, however, for letting poetry make this forceful entry: I was reading something on philosopher Schopenhauer who thought that a man who has no mental life goes greedily from sensation to sensation in search of happiness and at last he/she is conquered by the nemesis of the idle rich or the reckless voluptuary - ennui.
A tremendous poem, Matheikal!
ReplyDeleteEnormous thought and elan!
Please keep writing even without POP:)
Thanks, Amit. I must thank both Schopenhauer and T S Eliot - the thought came from the former and the style from the latter.
DeleteMatheikal,
ReplyDeleteEven as I wish to stay away from poetry, my friends try to get me sucked into the vortex ... please :(
But, when you say something in simple words in non-poetic form, like "idle rich", I do come alive! Are the rich ever idle? Aren't they always trying to become richer??? :))) Just curious. And, I do not understand "reckless voluptuary".
RE
Raghuram, it seems you don't read even the non-poetic form carefully enough :) I was quoting (not verbatim) Schopenhauer who died in 1860. The rich were simply idle in those days; the poor did all the work for them! By reckless voluptuary the philosopher meant any person who feasted on sensual delights (like food, drinks, sex...) neglecting "mental life" which only can bring more lasting happiness...
DeleteNice poetry.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
Delete'Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga?'
ReplyDeleteA Fine piece of disillusionment and yearning for the truth. Refreshed memories of TSE's Marina.
Yes, Uma, I imitated Eliot's opening lines in 'Marina'. But I must admit I'm flabbergasted by your identifying it so easily.
Deleteprofound poem written with an edge of irony . Even deplorable is how material wealth is projected as an important measure of worthiness ! The poem points a strong finger at this state of manhood . Keep churning out such brilliant lines sir :)
ReplyDeleteNo, Maliny, I'm not sure I'll stick to poetry. This poem just came like that - out of leisurely meditation which my normal routine will never permit. I work in a residential school, you see.
DeleteThanks for the appreciation.
Like!
ReplyDeleteGlad you do.
DeleteThe message which your poem gives is worth thinking about.We want to be happy but do not know where to look for happiness.
ReplyDeleteWe are like the woman who searched in the front yard for the ear ring she lost in the kitchen saying there was no light in the kitchen!
DeleteSir, you have a soul in your writing ! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, friend.
DeleteGood attempt. It turned out to be a golden poem with lots of iron in it. LOL! Congrats and keep writing.
ReplyDeleteI shall...
DeleteA poignant one, Matheikal!! Abundance is certainly not something that we acquire... it is something we tune into. It is a state of being! Highly philosophical stuff!..the word 'moksa' came to my mind suddenly.
ReplyDeleteNice one!Keep writing!!
Thanks, Panchali. It's philosophical because it was inspired by Schopenhauer.
DeleteGood one....
ReplyDeleteThanks.
Delete