Strings Poem by Nishtha Trivedi
Strings
The finger moves,
the strings stretch,
with a smile plastered on his face,
the puppet obeys.
Its limbs moved,
and pushed and pulled,
and the puppet made to obey,
to comply with its master,
by simple strands.
How, I wonder,
this little charade works -
that thin threads in those unworthy hands
come to possess a power so great?
A power over another being,
over his body and his actions
but most importantly, his mind
enslaved mysteriously by one,
earlier disguised as an equal,
but today, his puppeteer.
How fascinating, yet so very strange
is the power of those mere strands!
Those controlling fingers,
feel glorified, like God,
to direct the lives of others,
in a way that only resembles
the devil.
In reality, delusional, drunk with power,
the narcissist stands tall
with childish faith in his invincibility -
makes his puppet dance.
Moved slyly by unseen fingers,
on strands so thin, almost invisible from afar,
the puppet seems to be doing it all on his own,
a slave of those with an invisible strength,
never able to express,
never able to break free,
never able to escape.
An innocent soul
caught in the spider’s web,
a slow poison running through him,
stuck, before he could think,
trapped, enmeshed, now he never will.
first tempted, tantalised by false
dreams of friendship,
now forced a slave.
Stripped of his will,
his mind torn apart,
unable to find reason,
as his own identity ceases to exist,
he smiles, for there is no alternative,
caught forever,
in strings.
An innocent soul caught in the spider’s web, a slow poison running through him, stuck, before he could think, trapped, enmeshed, now he never will. first tempted, tantalised by false dreams of friendship, now forced a slave. Stripped of his will, his mind torn apart, unable to find reason, as his own identity ceases to exist, he smiles, for there is no alternative, caught forever, in strings. This is wonderful. A reflection on a puppet can lead a poetess to such a reflection on slavery and how a human being can make another a slave. False promises with a realization at the end of a doomed reality of life. Wonderful reflection. You are so young a poetess. Write, write, write.. you have a call to write. Thank you
A power over another being, over his body and his actions but most importantly, his mind enslaved mysteriously by one, earlier disguised as an equal, but today, his puppeteer. puppet as a symbol.. very good idea.. forcing others to lose their identity and will and reasoning power.. very good poem with ideals of its own. thank you. you have done a wonderful work
puppet master or aspiring Sociopath that is the question? good, and deep is the heart that wrote this one.
An innocent soul caught in the spider’s web, a slow poison running through him, stuck, before he could think, trapped, enmeshed, now he never will. first tempted, tantalised by false dreams of friendship, now forced a slave. Stripped of his will, his mind torn apart, unable to find reason, as his own identity ceases to exist, he smiles, for there is no alternative, caught forever, in strings. This is wonderful. A reflection on a puppet can lead a poetess to such a reflection on slavery and how a human being can make another a slave. False promises with a realization at the end of a doomed reality of life. Wonderful reflection. You are so young a poetess. Write, write, write.. you have a call to write. Thank you
At first i thought i was being given a stage act - of all the Puppets. But i was in for a surprise. Cleverly takes us to the actualities of life, the dominant characters, always controlling us; how the devil overpowers us and poisons us; and then we are truly sold to the devil. very nice. In reality, delusional, drunk with power, the narcissist stands tall with childish faith in his invincibility - makes his puppet dance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 8:10:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Well articulated piece of poetry insightfully penned with conviction. The poem reminded me of some politicians who have sold their freewill to the devil and consequently are entangled in the demon's web of intrigues. A nice piece indeed. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
Thank you very much!