Posted by: Prem Piyush | March 16, 2007

We – the puppets


I am a puppet,
May be like you,
Decorated one,
On the roadshow.

Tied with strings,Puppets
Lifeless strings,
Invisible ones,
To give life in me.

Its our painted smile,
Nicely colored one,
Under the bright sun,
Puppets on roadside.

The masters smile,
When audience clap,
When they praise.
Strings we do play.

The masters feel proud,
As puppets look sound,
The masters feel sad,
When show goes bad.

We are the choice and,
Life of the masters,
Play of the masters,
Like you, I am a puppet.

Under our toy figures,
We feel love, but feared or shy.
Under their boxes, we do cry.
Our masters – tell us why ?

I know – our masters,
Why you all too cry,
When you feel helpless,
Under some supreme high.

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