I was the typical sailor on shore leave— full of life
You were eager to walk with me, on the wild side
You kept pouring love into my heart
Till I looked at you, with eyes of love
It was love on a two way lane
Remember those seven day weekends
When we ate nothing but soul food
Then came the shipping recession, and my world crumbled
King Midas in reverse , I was in the middle of a heart ache
Slowly , but surely, you drifted away when I needed you the most
You had no use for knights in rusty armour
I tried dancing some more with you, on the jagged edge
Though I knew well , that it takes two to tango
I still remember the night you called it a day
Even while I desperately tried lighting candles in the rain
I cried all the way home—yes , sailors do cry!
You broke my heart in more places than I could ever find out
I had nobody to help me pick up the broken pieces
There was no sunshine for long after you left
It was permanent rainy season for my heart
My lips smiled , my eyes never did
I lived in a daze , in a black and white world
Sometimes I wondered, where all the flowers had gone
Yes baby, I loved you so much , it hurt ed
My friend hastened to tell me “ you need a vacation from love!’
Then my bewitching new love waltzed into my life
She knew all, but let me be her third world country
Her kisses were sweeter than wine
She had the chord of my heart go TWANG!
Let me tell you, you are nobody till somebody loves you
She wove my broken dreams and got me hummin’ again
Then BANG came the shipping boom, out of the blue
King Midas on overdrive, I became all over again
My cup of happiness overflowed like never before
Now you are on the other side of goodbye
You are just another faceless person in the crowd
“No parking for you” says the road signs in my heart
Now I can give you anything , but love
I thank god , you could not draw my well of love dry
Our love ghosts tango no longer
Our song has ended , the melody does not linger
My lovely dream weaver owns this heart, I once hung up for you
Please don’t talk about me , now that I am not yours
( THIS IS A TRUE STORY-- OF MY FRIEND )
This for future poets who want to carve a niche for themselves on this planet.
Poetry is the flow of intense thoughts— otherwise it is NOT poetry.
It need not rhyme , unless you are writing it as a nursery rhyme for little children to sing along. Once you start reading poetry you will NOT be able to stop. And finally when you do stop, you will feel something inside your heart— if it is good poetry.
Love and nostalgia take very little effort to make that impact.
Gone are the days of Victorian bombardment. An ordinary man on the street can write good poetry. Good poetry means 90% of the people both erudite and illiterate who read it will be impressed.
The remaining 10% misanthropes of this planet , who need something other than poetry to get impressed, please excuse.
CAPT AJIT VADAKAYIL