Tuesday, 22 April 2014


The following is a poem that I penned during an ‘open poem writing’ competition which got splendid response.

                                         THE STRANGER IN THE COFFEE SHOP
Glued in the chair I stayed 
For the coffee I ordered                                              
Among the folk
A minute or two ago.
There came in a stranger
With a smiling face and bald head.
Nothing remarkable he wore
But a red shirt and a plain short
Gently with the pace of breeze
He walked to the counter
Took the ears of the lady behind it
And whispered a word or two
And with her head nodding
The matter seemed approved.
He turned to face us
And to address,
“Ladies and Gentlemen, one may come and one may go
But today, I shall go forever.
For never have I found a reason
And a meaning of my existence
Never could I do anything remarkable.
Hence, I must finally go
But not a coward’s death
But a death of a hero
With this last act of mine! ”
He took a graphite-black pistol
Placed its cold muzzle on his temple
Took a deep breath
And with that smiling face
Ended his life with the pull of the trigger.
But to this day, I ponder
If his last act be a hero
Or just another imprudence?
Not only had he been a stranger
For a day in the coffee shop
But a stranger for eternity.

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