How old is this car of yours?
Doctor, its running into the late seventies
The engine is a bit too noisy
Okay, let me have a look at your heart
The silencer is also a bit clogged
Well that's a job for a specialist of ENT
The gearbox oil levels are down and dirty
Yes, your joints seem to creak a lot
The wind shield is always fogged and scratched
Well, your cataracts seem to be beyond repair
The paint is jaded and the crash guard a little bent
Wrinkled skin is okay mate and walk carefully
Doctor, tell me how long with these bald tires?
Ha! , keep them going old pal till the fuel runs out
Well, You haven't reached scrap value as yet
Just drive slow, keep to the left lane always
Find quiet roads with less noisy traffic
And when you feel the engine splutter
Park it gently on some inner side road
Somebody will find it for sure and report
And perhaps, a proper cremation will follow........
(note - ENT means ear/nose/throat specialist)
I liked this poem - the human body likened to an automobile. The pathetic condition of it is well described in apt words. Good work.
A poignant and serious message delivered with a finely honed sense of humour. Brilliant.
Deep speculation. Nice presentation. Beautiful poem I like most. Many thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good, and enjoyable juxtaposition! The metaphor is spot on.