Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

The Last Man

by Swathi Iyer

They called him The Man,
He had to be monogrammed.
They- for he had none,
none his own, no name given.
Fixedly singular and starving,
Forty-nine (in 'Eleven),
The man trudged into The New World
With Arrowheads and Hand-axes,
A perfect stranger.
Fifty-four (in 'Sixteen),
Consumption silenced The Man.
He took with him to his ground-
A bow and a quiver of five arrows, 
A sock of shell-bead money, 
Tobacco, Three rings
And flakes of stone.
Fifty-four (in 'Sixteen),
Them Forty-niners secured a headstone
On the civilization that Gold snuffed.
They called him The Man,
He had to be monogrammed.
They- for he had none,
none his own, no name given.

Fixedly singular and starving,
Forty-nine (in 'Eleven),
The man trudged into The New World
With Arrowheads and Hand-axes,
A perfect stranger.

Fifty-four (in 'Sixteen),
Consumption silenced The Man.
He took with him to his ground-
A bow and a quiver of five arrows, 
A sock of shell-bead money, 
Tobacco, Three rings
And flakes of stone.

Fifty-four (in 'Sixteen),
Them Forty-niners secured the headstone
On a civilization that Gold snuffed.

Added: 24.03.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

05.05.2011

Seems very well thought out and expressed, not sure I completely understood the full meaning.

Email:

Share:

Back