The song of the open road
is a song —
With no verses or
magical words
It has no tempo
no lilting tune
It won’t touch the heart or
the soul anymore
The song of the open road
is not lilting anymore!
The empty by-lanes
remind me of a sharp pain
hammered into the conscience
like a nail
that fixed itself
on its spot, permanently
with photos of dead saints.
The twittering of birds
like the resounding beat
of a broken banjo
pitch higher than before.
found on the altars of death.
It gave hope
in the dingy lanes,
but are to be found no more.
The song of the open road
is not lilting anymore!
This song of the open road,
reminds me
of choked and unheard cries of the trodden people,
lost and seen no more.
Now, they are not even present
in our stories anymore!
The song of the open road
is not lilting anymore!
It has no tempo,
No meaningful stanzas.
Just a ghastly scale
That never reaches
the heavens above
Its sinful crescendo
getting louder
shriller . . .
And, meaningless.
The song of the open road
is not lilting anymore!
Gods weep
Satan rejoices loud and says -
'You little bitches!
Bastards, you are my slaves. Obey me now.'
— all the more.
The song of the open road
is not lilting anymore!
This poem was part of The Poetry Issue 2023, curated by Shireen Quadri. © The Punch Magazine. No part of these should be reproduced anywhere without the prior permission of The Punch Magazine.
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