The Puppet

The Puppet short poem

Photo by deen

The puppet, strung up, made to move ever faster
With time rises proficiency, it overtakes its master
It craves the open air, it wants to test its wings
The master cackles, “Fool, you know not what Fate brings”

The puppet contemplates, it perceives the word
As just another string to tie it to the herd
It writhes hard, breaking at last free from its strings
And then pauses, shivering, wondering what Fate brings

The master turns pale, he grabs at the puppet in vain
For the puppet’s freedom signals the end of his reign
It cannot be caught now, in full flight it sings
“Come on, then, Master, let me see what Fate brings”

Fate brought death, destruction, chaos and woe
The master gazed on and spoke to the world, “Lo!
Learn your lesson here, all you puppets with wings
If you choose to test them, this is what Fate brings.”

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Mohammed Doucheman

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Student of English Literature, amateur poet/writer, bibliophile, cynic, food connoisseur.
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Nadeem Qazilbash
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Every main street corner looks the same, every KFC, every McDonalds, undifferentiated… is this utopia?

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The Puppet Master

The Puppet Master short poem

the blue moon rises in the broken October sky a crooked smile crosses her face a tear in un-knowing eyes the puppet master pulls the strings the puppet seems surprised she dances in the moonlight in the yard where graves