Beautiful - (Poem)

Beautiful

He, of the beautiful face and voice

he has grown too.

The melting point - memory and muse, fuse

those dark days, when danger and death

were ever so close, engaged in a duet

And now, looking back,

through the maze

in a haze,

all alone to make sense of what’s left.

His song still enchants, his sounds still enhance

the dance of life and the living

He, our idol, still around, still so fine,

yet alone, bereft of his bass

Genuine and true, feeling blue, I have no clue

Like a ghost, with no grave, with no rest

I pull back,

sense the lack,

Stability gone, undone at the seams

He, like me, is aware but can’t see

Past emotions weren’t always the best.

Old Shoes (Poem)

17.3 Old Shoes 

A pair of stilettos, beige, brown and black

Now on their last legs, displayed on the rack

High heels that strain, my calf muscles in vain,

Wolf-whistling and whispers, no pain, no gain

Pity the ground turned to mud in the rain

Coz one heel got stuck,  what utter bad luck.

So, so sweet (Poem)

So, so sweet

My friend flaunts her figure in front of me                           

cute, clever cream curls on a cake catch my eye                   

black forest berries, brown chocolate, cherries                     

Dare I dream and desire, let the diet drift and die…            

It, stares back stoically and seems to smile                            

lustfully, longingly, my look full of love                              

calorie control curbs our encounter                           

will It make my backbone break, like a battered boxing-glove.                  

Sustaining my stance, I soldier on but                                   

surely a small sliver, just one simple slice                              

No remorse later, nor righteous regret,                                  

it’s just once, it’s not twice, it’s not thrice.                            

Sugar shouts shamefully, shows off its wares                       

and Trojan-like, tries for a truce, what a tease,                     

I falter, I fail, forever the fool,       
a paltry, puny, petty piece, just a taste, pretty please.
                                       

        

Hair - (Poem)

Hair

The first year of sixth form, the boys are there too,

Michael Jackson, Dire Straits compete with Kung Fu

Equations and theorems explained to the whiteboard,

They’re making no sense and striking no chord.

A shiny round patch, as pink as the panther,

Bald headed professor, he was quite a ranter.

I’m bored and annoyed, this was not maths

Deft fingers work quickly, turn hair into plaits.

Two antennas emerge, in place of a fringe,

And with just one look, if eyes could singe…

Fuming and foaming, he points a finger,

At me, then the door, and I, dare I linger?

Oblivious and puzzled, I look for a reason

I’m being sent out, but committed no treason.

I tell the headmaster I am at a loss

‘You mock with your hair, that’s why he is cross.’