More than most men he spurned
The dither of indecision,
Affixed his signature as though
The autograph were a warrant.
The consequences acted for him,
His regent when he went astray
From his existential destiny
Of plumbing popular despair
With the twang of his guitar.
The words which he tortured on the rack
Of the tunes which he griped,
Solaced, sufficed, an inbred therapy
For the usual malady
Of fearing to be second rate.
His innocence disarmed, adding much
To his well-deserved income.
Scorn not his minstrelsy,
Which assuages mania
In those preparing to be old
Here in this song-less world.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Pop Singer by Ananta Madhavan )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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