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Saturday, 1 March 2014

Poem: Street Number 19

By: Team PenTastic
By Sarthak Mohapatra, 1st year, Civil Engineering

This poem is about a guy who fell in love with a busker (a person who entertains people for money in public places such as by singing or dancing).

Born with a silver spoon , And raised with a Bentley,
I was a boy of hardly twenty.

They called me a spoiled brat, A man with no heart
Anyways they were right
I was a bit way-ward.

What was I doing with life, I barely had any clue
What I did all day was strum the guitar
For that was all I knew.

Aimless, lifeless I roamed the streets, In search of love
Until I walked down street number 19
And got sure there’s someone above.

I stumbled across the lane, Where I saw her
A girl playing a violin
Yes, she was a busker.



Philosophers have got the words, Poets could describe her better
Quite unfortunate on my part
‘cause I was neither.

She stood there , With her eyes open yet closed
Playing a soft melody
Into which she was completely devoured.

With people circled around her, And music tearing apart my husk
I could only hear the metallic sound of coins
Dropped into her box.

The song ended, The people were gone
I Kept staring at her from the same place
While she packed and left alone.

Suddenly my life, Seemed to have known no heights
All I remember is painting the sky green and trees red 
that night.

I kept humming the solo, Dreaming her soft fingers pacing on the violin
She had weaved the magic
The kind of which I felt deep deep within.

I went to talk the next day, With a brave heart, for I was a bit shy
Ended up standing motionless
After the music I was hit by.

Days rolled by, And I just couldn't talk
I was in love
And was still being a complete jerk.

I finally summoned the courage, Mustered up the strength
I had to talk the next day
I began counting each breath.

Dressed up in my usual attire, Hormones dripping out from every gland
I left for the street
With a bright red rose in hand.

Seeing her standing alone, I felt lucky
I praised the Lord
And walked down towards her slowly.

What happened next, I never could elude
I wish I could stop the clocks
Oh! I wish I could.

Just as I was a few meters apart, Just as the day seemed all whole and hearty
She got hit by a mad car
Probably drunk from last night’s party.

People circled around her, But this time for a different reason
The rose had died 
And I felt like caged in a prison.

She is dead, For over 10 years now
All these days I have lived
I still wonder how.

With all my wealth, It might be hard to imagine
But I have moved on
And now a busker at street no.19.


5 comments:

  1. What a lovely piece of writing ! Simple words yet lucid emotions . Keep it up.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Speechless! The emotions were so well expressed and lyrical. Lookinng forward to more poems from you.

    ReplyDelete