If no one else breathed in this wide, wide world
Will one know one exists under this sun
Or how will he guess he’s the only one
If none thought of him in some other world
Will he then climb upon some hill all bold
To announce: Where is there another son
Not just the wayward scowling wind undone
By thunder – great tyrant out to scold
Alone bears this man the pain of mankind
Left to look for answers in porous sky
None else around to guide his erring hand
If he but an instant shut his lone mind
Even an attosecond long gone by
Will earth and sky stay true not second hand.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Copyright ©:
T. Wignesan - Paris, 2013
ABOUT THE POET ~
If I might be allowed to say so, I think my "first" love was poetry. Unfortunately for me, the British curricula at school did not put me in touch with the Metaphysical Poets, nor with the post-Georgian school. Almost all the school texts after World War II contained invariably Victorian narrative poems and some popular examples of Romantic poetry. I chanced upon a selection of T. S. Eliot's and Fitzgerald's Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, and a little later on Pope's An Essay on Man and Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. That did the trick. Yet, I regret not having taken to prose in earnest earlier than the publication of my first collection: Tracks of a Tramp (1961). There's nothing like trying your hand at all kinds of prose exercises to come to grips with poetry. Or rather to see how poetry makes for the essence of speech/Speech and makes you realise how it can communicate what prose cannot easily convey. I have managed to put together several collections of poems, but never actually sought to find homes for them in magazines, periodicals or anthologies. Apart from the one published book, some of my sporadic efforts may be sampled at http://www.stateless.freehosting.net/Collection of Poems.htm
