He was sitting just there,
Suddenly she came shouting shrill,
Its time and you have to leave,
He reluctantly took his manila,collected his glasses,
And made for the door,
He hiked himself on a bus,
And landed at the Tube,
Wading through the passenger crowd,
He found his tube and boarded it,
Tube ran and ran real fast,
But he just sat their thinking naught,
He was programmed for minutes,
Till tube stopped at his destination,
It did so soon enough,
And he got up in robot like fashion,
And got out of the passenger crowd,
He now boarded a bus,
And got moving to work place,
Landing there he just entered the gates,
He had little applets written in his brain,
To acknowledge in greeting,
Other colleagues and friends,
He nodded along,
Till his place came,
He simply sank in the cushy chair,
and sat there thinking naught,
a guy came and then another,
a few others followed,
some had work,some reported to him,
while to some other he did,
most of them had papers to exchange,
he had some papers,
others he got out of the computer,
towards evening his day of work ended,
he had reasons to get angry,
but he did not,
he had reasons to be happy,
but he did not ,
he had several reasons to be several states,
but he did not,
he just sat there and thought naught,
With limp gestures he picked up his manila and glasses,
And moved to the tube,
Tube took him back the same way it had brought,
He again just sat there and thought naught,
He was home and sank in an armchair to relax,
He sipped the coffee and soon supped,
But he still thought just naught,
It was about the same when he watched soaps and sundry on smaller tube,
He still thought naught,
When he did fall sleep his brain stopped thinking even naught,
Till he got up next morning,
And got opportunity to think naught again.
Author notes
Till he got up next morning,
And got opportunity to think naught again.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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You gave a poetic story, painted the scenes set and voiced an opinion of him...
Life is strange and how we see it is not always in colour
Black and white tells this tale
best wishes hun
Julie
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Such rote beings, some are. I find this far-edged enough to be wonderful. It is like work to read it, but that kind of work that is repetitious and nicely manipulated by the poet! If I were to have any critique, it would be to somehow add that shrill voice back in towards the end to show her constancy,as well. I wonder at the use and misuse of capitalization?
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Luckily my mind is bent warped and wicked twisted, I will never suffer such a mundane fate as what you describe. But I know some who do and you portray the lifestyle well!
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A most interestingly dull tale, that actually kpet me captivated. I was going to say with your rearkable vocaabulary you could write in a more ... brilliant ( ? ) way than this... but towards the end, the repetition is used most artistically, and the impression you intended, or what I believe you intended, to create really hits the reader.
Well done, I really liked this piece!!!
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i liked this, it describes the life of many. myself included. we can rely to much on certain things. i liked this very much good write.
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Sometimes we can become mechanical in our daily lives, like robots drifting from one experience to the next and being totally unaware of what is happening around us. I have seen many like this, perhaps it is a defence mechanism, who knows, but it is very sad.
Cherry xxx
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very interesting write.
i like the way you told this story
very different and creative
Thank you for sharing
keep the ink flowing
fire
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You describe perfectly what it is to be stuck in the same routine, to handle without a thought. I enjoyed reading
Love D.L.
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beautiful!! I love it
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This is an amazing piece. Unfortunately I think you describe the day to day life of many. Feeling as if they perform the same functions daily, not contributing or taking anything from society of life. Waiting for the day when they take the final Tube to never return. Powerful, yet so simply relayed. Thank you for sharing!
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This seems futuristic, to me. Movement without meaning, programmed, but, perhaps he seems this way because his life is programmed, and semingly uneventful. I wish to never live like that.
A few reads. Good one.
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I've read this over and over again and i'm just lost for words really....so so sad.
Very moving piece of work here.
Annie
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(bows slowly)
My friend... He thought naught...and naught wasn't there... Things could be felt...but he...he simply didn't care. He went on, minutes passed, seconds stopped, hours dragged into days and nothing...was all he had. Alone when surrounded by a sea of everything... Nothing when surrounded but his own emptiness. The soundlessness drowning out the sea...and still alone. And for this man...I cry... You were right...it moved me... Moved me to a place I understand...envy...and despise...all at the same time...
(smiles softly)
So all I can do is cry...and cry... And read and understand...with no one to smile with...no one to laugh with... No one to talk to...
Naught.
What a beautifully, tragic, sad poem... Thank you for sharing it with us.
Your Czarina,
~Seraph
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"He was programmed for minutes" <--- I loved that line. So simple and yet to me it seems the sum of the entire conondrum.
We get caught up in minutes and forget to live, like this poor bus passenger.
His wife might do better to stop shouting shrilly and give him something to think about, if you will forgive the naught-y allusion.
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haha well i have naught to say lol...nice one my mate..as lear said to cordelia "naught, naught comes from naught" haha cool bro,,,
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