The more people around, the more invisible and unnoticed one become and vice versa: the less we notice others. You've managed to express the lonely feel of being in a crowd, may as well be on the mountains of Tibet, of course this would be opposite as the loneness comes from overwhelming numbers and noise, and not emptiness and quiet. Thanks for the poem.
Oh I can see the tired monk with his guitar starp over his shoulder, trudging along, anonymous among the masses. I love these glimpses, Ollie!
ReplyDeleteImpossible for me to grow tired of these poems. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteanother great piece...
ReplyDeleteJJRod'z
It's the passing unknown that gets me.
ReplyDeleteSeems like that's how you pass in a city.
Nice one, Ollie!
yes.
ReplyDeleteI looove your style! U gota new fan!
ReplyDeleteLove this, "..crowd of thousands
ReplyDeletedreadlock thick.."
I'm with Magic.
ReplyDeleteindeed sometimes in the city we are nameless and lifeless...
ReplyDeletelovely one ~
The more people around, the more invisible and unnoticed one become and vice versa: the less we notice others. You've managed to express the lonely feel of being in a crowd, may as well be on the mountains of Tibet, of course this would be opposite as the loneness comes from overwhelming numbers and noise, and not emptiness and quiet. Thanks for the poem.
ReplyDeletenice imagining of the inconspicuous monk!
ReplyDeleteGreat one Olie. Together alone. The life of a blues man monk.
ReplyDeleteI love ... 'crowd of thousands dreadlock thick'
ReplyDeleteSolitary in the crowd, eh?
ReplyDelete