Tuesday, March 27, 2007

MY POEMS
MY MOST PRECIOUS

In wide toothless glee her eyes screws shut
She smiles benign whole-hearted joy from gut
Now her face shrinks into a pinched mood
How her passing time colour her infinite mood!

Her head tilts and momentous gurgle pours mirth
She’s now groping for some precious thing of worth
She finds one so good, it’s a torn bit of paper
She now sleeps may be a shut-eye or slumber

As morning sun sprays golden rays
Her shock of hair frames her creamy face
Like a well-sucked mango stone
And her pudgy fist holds for dear life the paper torn.

She wails, she burps, she sings, she shouts
She crawls, she sprawls, she bawls, she lolls.
Her creator must puzzle in his wisdom profound
How such a small thing makes her world go round.

No possession makes me feel so precious
No one but her consider me great and gracious
No time is enough to share her lively joy and cheer
No gold can buy a bonny daughter sweet and dear.
THE DOOR
Behind the door
They’re sore
Afore it
Smiles galore
They hide
Behind the fa├žade
As it yawns open
What’s gonna happen
No one knows

The door when shut
Some do hope
In fumes of dope
Or as they lose hope
On a fatal rope
Traps destiny
When the trap opens
The truth never dawns

You’re shut
Your ego’s bust
As you get a slap
You take it out on the trap
The rage is spent
The knob is bent
As it’s yanked open
All regret what’s happened

He’s got a GUN!
BANG BANG!
Bullets make patterns
Call up someone
The wall’s open
The corpse has fallen
Another life forgotten
No one gives a damn
As the door opens

It’s night
The cuddly bride
Shuts the door softly
The spouse hides his impotence
With feigned fatigue
‘Darling let’s do it,
‘Let’s not do it,’
Says the wily goat
And feigns a head ache!
As the wall slides shut
Nuptials bust!

‘Tom is learnin’!’
‘Don’t disturb him.’
The door, he fastens
His love the teen pens
Learning can surely wait
With Lila he can’t placate
‘She’s got to get this.’
‘And blow her a kiss’
The door is locked
Love is rocked!
Study mocked

They say the door traps you
But it does well for a few
The door is an enigma
Or evokes a stigma
Yet it’s a guard in defense
Or a curtain of excitement
Or a stupid thing
To vent your feeling
The door is our soul
When it closes makes us whole.

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