The Old Man Bops In Broken Boots


vikas chandra

Whose madness, is worth, all my mirth
A man, more than, talisman, to me
That world, baptized him, “Mr. Dearth”
Which frets, in façades, of sanity!

He chases, shadows, on highway
Who lost, his heart, hearth, hamlet too
O’er smoke, and a peg, he laughs away
Life’s enigma; death’s bugaboo!

Is estrangement, no existence!
Or the, only trail, to transcendence
There’s splendor, in his, blasé smile
Like faith, blooming o’er, fear fertile!

How long, will last, this lone caravan
A pilgrim’s, pursuits, beyond, his roots
O’er heart, of an, endless road, deadpan
The Old Man, Bops In, Broken Boots!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

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