Puppet land


Someone twitches a string and we

Raise a hand,scratch our heads, smile

Right on cue, tick

The appropriate box,elect

The best puppeteers to pull

Our strings, nod

The empty wooden heads together,perfect unison,bend

over backwards when they yank and pull

Seeing the unbending ones break

Under the weight.

Once in a while a puppet breaks free,does not

Move when the strings are pulled

Labelled dis functional,no longer of any use

To anyone. Disappears

All of  a sudden,only to be found

In a garbage bin or a nearby ditch,dismembered

Joints twisted,never to move again.

Life is simple when you only move

At a simple yank at your wooden limbs

You no longer have to think

Thinking is tiresome you see.

Once in a while a puppeteer retires and we

The lifeless dolls wait

for yet another puppeteer

To pull at our strings again.

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8 Comments on “Puppet land”

  1. Jingle says:

    eloquent,
    love the metaphor.
    smiles.

  2. dunstancarter says:

    I like it’s jerky rhythm – very apt

  3. robin says:

    … hoping to live without the puppeteer…

    {nice words. engaging.}

  4. I don’t want to play. Very well said and nicely written!

  5. This is excellent. Perfect metaphor that describes exactly how so many of us feel.

  6. I recently wrote about marionettes but its very different sort of poem. I really love your perspective and the metaphor it is the sad reality

  7. Jingle says:

    Happy Rally.

    so true, well done.

  8. vignesh says:

    haha.. i luved the d way its put.. so true..!!


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