Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The Last Prance

He was walking,

coolly, calmly, no hint of resignation.

The traffic moved around him,

honking, horning, in no state to stop.

With his saddlebag and black umbrella,
he ambled past shop owners,
and street children playing at the signal.

Fifty for one, hundred for three shouted some,
he did not pay heed.

People bargained, shopkeepers did not relent,
he kept on walking,
and then

the traffic rules he bent.

The green shone on, the yellow of the taxi in the distance.

He saw his chance, he hesitated, he ran.
The taxi rammed. Into him and ran. Off into the night.

Silence entrenched for a moment,
people looked and ran to help.
It was, but, too late.

A life was taken.
His choice or by chance.

The little feet of the children, after that, never did prance.


  1. I thought he was trying to commit suicide.
    Liked the ambiance created.. The title was good too.. :)

  2. loved this piece...short yet made its point

  3. dude no.. u cant remind me of that stuff
    u know what i wanted to kill for not keepin ur mouth shut after what had happened..

    But the poem is good..

  4. don wana go thru dis agn.... coz everytym i do , it happenz agn n agn....
    well writtn narci!!!