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Poem
Thrill to craft poetry with motives simon-pure

Analogous to beckoning
think fickle finger of fate doth allure
gussied up with 
windswept orange coiffure
tantalizes like a kid 
in a candy store to explore
amidst treasure trove of words galore
recollecting when yours truly
a spunky lad though
physically, and emotionally immature

to curry spicy relationship
(aside from being oblivious
to a golden opportunity)
with Meena Ravel,
a high school classmate
of my younger Shari,
whereby both girl students
graduated with flying colors
invariably her parents
Kokeela (which means "cuckoo bird"
or "nightingale)" and Kishore

(meaning "young boy," "youth)"
got along swimmingly more
power to the merits
brought together
after their match finalized
during their respective childhood's end
thus all the more power
to an arranged marriage,
albeit a visible successful union.

The above potential prospect
for a charming lass to befriend
one among countless other opportunities
I never risked expressing interest
devoid of sense and sensibility to lend
a helping hand
(secretly entertaining fantasy
to become son in law)
as a modus modus operandi
convincing said parents
of aforementioned lass
their daughter a godsend
could have helped me transcend
feeling awkward in the presence
of a darling young pretty woman.

All throughout puberty
and emerging adulthood
yours truly family of mine
concerned, frustrated and infuriated
(courtesy mother of mine,
who evinced anger at me
for shirking looking for employment,
but instead went to nearby parks
such as Evansburg, or Valley Forge,
whereby I parked car 

in secluded spot
and whiled the hours with attention
focused on webbed wide world of words)
they wondered why
the only male offspring
exhibited being painfully shy
and lacked even one fine companion
preferably of the opposite gender
(considered with reference
to social and cultural 

differences well nigh
rather than biological ones),
and subsequently turned
attention of mine toward
the safe realm to appease
voracious appetite to glean knowledge,
and getting woozy, 
yet naturally "high"
resulting from many 
hours bearing witness

to whip smartness courtesy
reading various and sundry material
to fraternize with characters,
who peopled my overactive imagination
which poor substitute for livingsocial
found appeasement of mindscape
strewn with tears asian arid wasteland
heavily punctuated where I did cry.

Even now forfeited relationships
alleviated with thoughts of wanting to die.
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