Shorn of his Mask…

Having written this poem on August 01, 2007, I had kept it ‘private’ but am posting it today for my readers!

17 July, 2007

Have you seen a man

In a persona turnabout,

Shorn of his mask

Of power and clout?

Scared and afraid

Weak and fragile

His voice powerless


Didn’t seem alive.

I watched and heard

This weakling

Who roared and thundered

To the placating masses

Who flatter and platter

His ego,

The inflated ego

That I saw buried

Deep inside his

Cowering frame.

Voice maim

Ego deflated.

A dead and lifeless

Entity—a non-entity

Who claimed to rule

The gutless

The shameless.

And that day

It was I

Who enjoyed the last laugh.

2 thoughts on “Shorn of his Mask…

  1. aarkay

    dear Ma’am, this reminds me of Shelley’s poem ” Ozymandias ” which I am reproducing below:


    By Percy Bysshe Shelley

    I met a traveler from an antique land
    Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
    Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
    Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
    And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
    Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
    Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
    The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
    And on the pedestal these words appear:
    “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
    Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
    Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
    Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
    The lone and level sands stretch far away.

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