The crowd applauds the center forward with the Roman face,
The ball soaring over defenders to find his feet in the right place.
A hardworking midfielder who beat everyone to make the final pass,
Is just another grain of sand in that moment of the scorer’s hourglass.
The midfielder remains hidden from the flash bulbs going out one by one.
This song is for all the heroes who do not score to remain unsung.
The television cook- a king of spices - putting it all grandly together,
To the applause of customers who look at his hands and wonder.
A hardworking boy who cuts and chops the greens and the meat,
Remains an unknown ingredient in the priceless treat.
The little kitchen boy forgotten in matters of taste and tongue,
This song is for the kids with spoons and knives who remain unsung.
The brilliant scientist saving the world with his miracle cure,
Acknowledged as the force who makes our future secure.
The old teacher who taught him addition with vision,
Remains a stepping stone in another remarkable student’s ambition.
The teacher who taught all the winners right and wrong,
You have remained unsung Sir, but this is your song.
The remarkable storyteller spinning magic out of a single word,
Bringing moments of joy with everyone calling him a wizard.
The little shadows behind that no one ever could find.
The explanations for the ideas in a beautiful mind.
The inspiration whose face could be old or young.
This song is for all the reasons who remain unsung.
If you like this poem, you may like The Little Hero Army
9 comments:
As usual, a very well written poem Gaurav, but not as intense as your recent works.
True, behind every individual success there is a team effort. But, it is individual who makes the difference, though I agree with your starting lines, it is fact that there will be too many people ready to cut the meat into pieces, but very few know how to cook.
Same is the the case with other examples.
The analogy between the midfielder in the soccer and the elementary teacher of a scientist didn't fit in well.
I liked the poem, its just the idea that I could not settle well with.
Hope you din mind me being critical.....
-AKP
They call it the greatest ODI match ever played. I would call it one of the greatest days in sports, ever.
Gibbs with his 175, Smith with his brute 90 and the evr dependable Boucher with his 54 were the heroes.
But then, there was this little spark that went largely unnoticed, the spark that lit the Wanderers on fire that evening.
After the mauling, as legend goes, everyone was down and out in the Proteas dressing room. Mr. Cool, Kallis walked in, looked at everybody, and passed along a quiet observation - "I guess they fell 20-30 runs short."
Well, the rest is history.
Are you kidding AKP? I thought the scientist part was the best!
GP you are taking this to a whole new level :) Now that I'm all out of appreciative words I shall quote The Scotsman when they critiqued Ogden Nash's poetry and said "It's laid, verbal brick by brick, to last" Oh well, the same goes for you!
-A
nice poem Gaurav....came here after a long time...whats up with your book
@AKP
Well, this is more about perspective. I think you are right to have issues with the idea.
The whole point is, like you, everyone appreciates the very few who can cook. NO issues with that. If you have a skill set that most dont, you ought to be applauded.
But very few dont even think about acknowledging the little chap who goes about the mundane task of cutting the vegetables.
Thats what this is about.
Keep writing in ! Look forward to your visits
@ A
I had tremendous fun writing this one.
Was inspired by Terry's performance this year.
And yes, dont know about Scotsmen but - Ogden Nash Rocks.
No, I am not kidding.
My understanding of the poem is that Gaurav is trying to say that the little things which makes up the success should be appreciated.
My logic is that if a cook's recipe is bad, little would you think about attributing it to the chap who cut the vegetables.
You never blame an anti social element's teacher for that person's behaviour.
The forward player is the person who will be crucified if he cannot convert a pass to the goal.
What I want to convey has become tacit now.
I am not saying that these people shall not be appreciated, but this is the way the world works.
Again, the poem is a great piece of work and I have all due respect to Gaurav.
Nice point AKP.
I did not think about it that way.
Yes, uneasy is the head that sits on the crown ( I may have got the phrase wrong. :)
Keep writing.
yeah, you got it wrong - that should be 'uneasy is the butt that sits on the crown' :D
Nice one, Gaurav. I myself have thought on these lines hundreds of times. The thing is, even if the 'sung - heros' ever mention anyone in their eulogy, it is always parents, friends - never their unsung aides.
So here's to all unsung aides, reasons and muses!
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