POETRY
DRINKING ALONE
A Sonnet (of sorts)
By: Nasser Yousaf
In my troubled gruesome life;
The end of which is in sight
I stepped on too many toes
And raised many eyebrows
I said many things burlesque
Little piffle now remains unsaid
A dadaist was I believed to be
A movement that has since licked dust
Poetry should not mean, a wise man said
But be
So I find myself bound to the northwest
Muttering my confiteor to be blessed
In the calm sipping my wine all alone
Save whistles of the shepherd so forlorn
(Dadaism: a movement in the early 20th century symbolizing presentation of nonsensical works of art.
Confiteor: a prayer of confessions)
posted by Nasser Yousaf @ 04:16
1 Comments
1 Comments:
Dear Nasser Yousaf Sahib, thank you for sharing your poem. It sums up your moment of contemplation in an aesthetically pleasing manner. The mood is melancholic, no doubt, but the beauty of the moment caught in the winsome web of words gives it a lot of meaning.
The poem expresses your inmost thought when you refer to the element of dada in your creative output. But I dont interpret dada here as nonsense but an act of protest , of dissatisfaction , of rebellion, indeed of a belief that life should have yielded much more fulfilment that it did in the lived world. In my view, the lived world is not all there is to it. Both the lived and the un-lived world make up the consciousness of a whole that is the stuff of poetry. This is a powerfully evocative poem.
With my regards. Ejaz Rahim
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