The Puppet – 1

The end of the strings
Are in your hands,
The moves, your thoughts;
But mistakes, the glitches
In my making’s process.
If I smile, it’s your right pull,
If I grimace, it is because
You lost the string’s end.

The pulls are painful – yes,
But I don’t have a say, do I?
The fears are locked
In my wooden heart;
And they don’t exist to you
As long as they don’t
Resonate through the walls;
Still… I shall comply…

I shall relent without lament
To the woodenness of me ~
Perhaps it’s easier to be
Just that – a wooden puppet,
Caught in fire rather than
Be alive and not exist…
Perhaps, it’s easier to realize
That I don’t have a life anyway…

– July 2nd, 2013
© Sana Rose 2013
N.B. Kindly note that the addressee here is human. It is not to God or any supreme power as some readers interpreted before. A poem of highly personal thoughts. 🙂
Thank you!

7 thoughts on “The Puppet – 1

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    Apropos the author’s footnotes , for this reader , the poem has a distinctive narrative voice and a discourse of entirely recognisable personal relationship tropes. The thing it put me in mind of most is the hit record from the 1960’s, Elvis Presley’s ” Wooden Heart ” .

    Reply
  2. Sana Rose

    Thank you, Louis – I am glad it makes the sense I intended without the footnote to the best poetry interpreter I have ever met. 🙂
    Thank you so much AZMM, Fathima Manal amd Gopalji!! 🙂
    I have a sequel The Puppet – II that I wrote the next day.

    Reply
  3. Sana Rose Post author

    Thank you, Louis – I am glad it
    makes the sense I intended
    without the footnote to the best
    poetry interpreter I have ever met.
    Thank you so much AZMM,
    Fathima Manal amd Gopalji!!
    I have a sequel The Puppet – 2
    that I wrote the next day.

    Reply

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