bent and old ... lot of metaphor

asphalt

That very old baggage … now almost packed
A strained set of nerves tucked under the head
The pavement grooves set apart few slates
The wrinkles’ distinguish some entangled threads
That perpetual question … heavy and bent
Whether that severe acknowledged fact
A push too hard for another step
May leave no life to be fused with death
That Sunday morning … now well absorbed
A weekend posture like a corpse collapsed
A brilliant sun gets too hot and hard
A fluent traffic echoes a silence confessed

Undue years were too patient for luck
Didn’t bother to regret what was cursed
He stood once like the skies would fall
Leaving none of his feebles sweat
Now a few more capacities laden with debt
Breathe under a heavily subsidized chest
Dirty piece of this linen hides a germ
Must have been the epidemic’s last conquest
An aging wound succumbs to health
Forever is difficult to put through an end
For want of food a smile can stake
For want of pain, demise gets delayed

That very old foot now just won’t move!
That son of a bitch can’t find a clue
If I can still manage to drag myself
Or should I retire … with my legs
That very old blood … now almost purple
Permits a feather light drop of sweat
To cover a fractured piece of strength
And rinse that pain kept well intact


i had seen this very old beggar sometime back .. he actually didn't move for nearly 5-6 minutes ... by the time i crossed the road and moved on .....

Anna_falk

Your poems are often interesting, I can acknowledge some lines are hard for me to follow but I liked it very much taken together.

asphalt

hey anna ! .. nice to hear from you ... thanks for the comment ..... usually i tend to be simple with words ... but yeah this one is completely in metaphor ..... its about the end years of a life ..... the last part .... when one can actually see one self .. gradually decaying ...going weak ... and fading away .......,. .. i somehow sensed that looking at an old beggar one day .........
n e ways ... life's tough ... gotta go on
see ya

Ali

asphalt wrote:

That very old baggage … now almost packed
A strained set of nerves tucked under the head
The pavement grooves set apart few slates
The wrinkles’ distinguish some entangled threads
That perpetual question … heavy and bent
Whether that severe acknowledged fact
A push too hard for another step
May leave no life to be fused with death
That Sunday morning … now well absorbed
A weekend posture like a corpse collapsed
A brilliant sun gets too hot and hard
A fluent traffic echoes a silence confessed

Undue years were too patient for luck
Didn’t bother to regret what was cursed
He stood once like the skies would fall
Leaving none of his feebles sweat
Now a few more capacities laden with debt
Breathe under a heavily subsidized chest
Dirty piece of this linen hides a germ
Must have been the epidemic’s last conquest
An aging wound succumbs to health
Forever is difficult to put through an end
For want of food a smile can stake
For want of pain, demise gets delayed

That very old foot now just won’t move!
That son of a bitch can’t find a clue
If I can still manage to drag myself
Or should I retire … with my legs
That very old blood … now almost purple
Permits a feather light drop of sweat
To cover a fractured piece of strength
And rinse that pain kept well intact


i had seen this very old beggar sometime back .. he actually didn't move for nearly 5-6 minutes ... by the time i crossed the road and moved on .....

This is great...a very large..three times read poem.but interesting to me.

Anna_falk

Very nice of you to answer, sharing me this