Poetry

Modern Life Is Rubbish

We believe we have advanced

Towards a future more auspicious

One which is simply devoid of bygones.

How could we possibly forget?

The grainy Polaroid films,

The nostalgic Kodak disposables.

People sneaked into those dark film rooms

To find solace and a figment of escapism

While developing photographs of loved ones.

For us to admire now.

Did you replace your vintage cameras?

With lookalike filters on your phone?

                                                                                                                          

The old vinyl player must be somewhere

Down in the storeroom sitting all alone-

Weeping tears of the past galore

Amongst the old cartons collecting dust and cobwebs.

Oh, the days when we met strangers

At the local record-

Just around the corner of the seventh street

And made promises of innocence and mirth.

Long gone are Cd’s

Now replaced by the only music you dance to

On your iPod playlists.

                                                                                                                          

Forget YouTube and Google

Do you at all consider or remember,

That dear old teal radio?

Wonderous little box

Around which you gathered and talked

About life and loss,

And occasionally complained

Of the malfunctioning noise.

                                                                                                                          

Yes, we built rockets

And decided we could live on Mars

But we forgot those days

When all joy ever truly meant was,

Holding your lover close to your beating heart,

The feel of her hand on your chest

Dancing to Louis Armstrong.

To me modern life is rubbish

And I have regrets, undoubtedly. 

                                                                                                                         

~Anurima Biswas

India

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