The European Quarter hums
Badge-wearing bureaucrats walk by
Ear phones on - yet gabbling tongues;
Not one observing summer sky.
Each buried in his smart, Smart phone
Oblivious of his fellow man
Each, in his own way, alone
But connecting up – for a short span.
Has the human race gone mad?
I suppose it’s progress – at a price
We’re gadget-plated, techno-clad
Wired like robots, mere blind mice!
With non-stop mails and SMS
Spelling half-learnt, all awry
No wonder our life is a mess
Deep down perhaps we wonder why...
(c) Poet in the woods 2014