Born 90. Countdown! Poem by Ananta Madhavan
Born 90. Countdown!
Norsemen invade us
Horsemen trample us
Dog men daunt us
Frogmen smother us
The land lies black in soot and rubble,
Dwellers in mean hovels grovel.
The President is lonely and would like
Instant obedience from the bunny girl.
He sat in the back of the car in a hunched sombrero.
She sat front with the chauffeur, Oh.
The girl behind the counter won't dispense
Favours to sloppy old married men.
The rain arraigns the waiting queue
For waiting in the queue.
- - - - - -
1970
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 7:50:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
While delivering your thoughts in a half hilarious tone, I see the anxiety and agitation of a thinking mind belonging to a generation in many ways different from the present one about a fast changing world where the order of happenings and situations are topsy - turvy! In many areas, men are pulled to the back seat and girls at the counter instead of attending to the needs of the aged and invalid are eager to please young dandies! I see it as a satire!
Thank you, Poet Valsa, for caring to read and comment on my old poem, 'Born 90, Countdown'. You are right to note the satirical slant; but I have grown to avoid judgements about the younger generations. As you say, their circumstances are different, and they are not to be considered as a collective group. Some are surprisingly 'modern', 'brainy', 'inventive'; while others are mediocre in quality, as those of my vintage were! Write on, regardless, is my self-advice.