more observant than
closed-circuit televisions ---
my little children
An aardvark walked into IKEA
Why he did that I have no idea
Ignoring their calls
To try the meatballs
He searched for some ants out the rear
He does ‘civilised’ when he’s able
So found a flat pack dining table
He’d built one - not ever
In inclement weather
And thus it was rather unstable
You don’t see aardvarks wearing wellies
While stuffing ants into their bellies
And if he should drown
While slurping ants down
Would it show up on closed circuit tellies?
He wouldn’t be humiliated
Embarrassment is over rated
The ground was now boggy
And aardvark was soggy
His hunger was not to be sated
So he snuck in to get meatballs - Swedish
He was wet so they gave him a free dish
He ate them real quick
And then he got sick
Had somebody done something fiendish?
The police came and said, “Well I Never,
Was it IKEA food or the weather?”
They found lots of clues
They thought they could use
But they struggled to put them together.
A fire in the kitchen?
I smell of smoke in the hall.
Somebody is very guiltily
Washing down the wall.
What’s left of the toaster’s
Just a burnt plastic shell.
Some time last night
We almost had a mini hell.
Thank the Lord for CCTV.
A bit of a disturbing sight
He’d come in a bit tipsy
Just after midnight.
Put the toaster on the hob
Switched the wrong device on
Seemed blithely unaware that
The smoke alarm had gone.
He’d sat drinking tea
Supremely unaware
Of the flames and smoke
Swirling around his chair.
A pajamaed figure appears
Smoke alarm must have alerted
Situation quickly sorted
Potential emergency averted.
White faced and anxious
Sitting with his dad and me
As we all sit and watch
The Closed Circuit Tv.
He’d been doing so well
Getting back on track
But, three steps forward
And two steps back.
Give credit where it’s due,
Criticise where it’s earned,
Put it down to experience,
Just another lesson learned.
Mending broken soldiers
We all voluntarily chose
Win or lose its a gamble
Last night it was close.
I WRITE
I write because I love to write
and write any time day or night.
In open zone or closed circuit,
in any field I make it fit.
I write poetry and feature.
On essay or prose I venture.
Once my hobby,now profession.
I feel satisfied with creation
on facts and imagination.
Muse rolls releasing my tension.
Also it is my recreation.
Basically it’s my passion.
08/31/22
I write because
. ..Third place
Contest by Anoucheka Gungabissoon.
RAIN:
Life is raining like colors shades of grey
Moron day’s passes in tray
The ray of hope vanishes away
Trying the effort to pour some light in the grey rain
No effect, every efforts in vain
The covering of every aspect is difficult cliff
Cannot explain in riff
Though the words covey a lot
Like a sun in the dark weather thought
Gloomy day’s passes away like a cutting edge of falling tree
Rhymes are not the concern thee
The matter of fact is this the cutting edge
Veins are thirsty wedge
In the search of colorful rainbow
But this heart is not functioning as thou
No matters the days are gone empty
Sunshine lost let start a new tea
Matter is the closed circuit has not completed yet
Jumble words in a climatic wet
The search is not yet finished so try to get
Trying to cover each mile to reach the truthful set
Yet to explore
The ideas are vanishing how to cover each mile upset turns to roar
Targets are so high yet to know the fact
The untold story the untold truth act
The incomplete story is incomplete.
O beauty is what it is fleet
Now Replenishing in the petrichor hope.
The nest of wires
so loosely tethered
at the base of control
suffers from rigidity
while hard-linked
to each portal of
infinity
until cracks snake
the foundation
like menacing grins,
all mirthlessly mouthing
infallible truth
behind certain
fallibility:
every age rises
before diminishing
to bury discovery
as treasure precious
within the driving
will of all forms
sentient.
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