Men need prove them time and again
In ways that endorse them as men—
It makes MAGA what ‘tis,
As is Trump what he is,
Trying hard to self-inflict pain.
To bald, I sell hell of hair oil,
He often boasts to world on boil,
Miserably to fail
In Mid-east, seeking bail,
Iran refusing to fall in his foil.
_________________________
Happenings | 12.05.2026 | humour, USA, political, Limerick
Note: Many of Trump’s MAGA followers, a faithful lot for long, seem to get increasingly tired of his foolish ventures that only make day-to-day life hell in USA. Trump still persists selling these remedies to them, gulf oil to all others. This little ditty likens them as a cure-all oil. He thinks he‘s a good salesman, but is he?
There were liberal field, golden paddy, mild touch of south breeze
And there were you, your beautiful smiles with opening mind
There were jackfruit, plum, mango, palm, and betel-nut trees on the bank of the pond.
And there were you, the sounds of anklet-rings, the scent of tuberose hair oil.
There were creeping plants of legume, balsam-apple, cucurbitaceous, snake gourd, and all these flowers on the home yard.
And there were you, daily watering on those plants, vegetable collecting basket.
There I was happy
when you walked on the field,
when you smiled under the trees,
when you watered on the creeping plants
And there I was fully quenched seeing you surreptitiously
My shyness farewelled you silently, wiping tears
Now, I am happy when I hear your life is joyful there
This heart is nothing
just a flowery bed of love,
just a heaven of love,
just the mighty throne of love
Now, to me, the field, trees, pond, yards, creeping plants are nothing
except for a pure reflection of you
all through these, my happiness comes and goes
peacefully
delightfully
amorouslyerotically
-07.12.2020 Chattogram
I was a child, an ordinary one.
Perhaps all other kids had
Something in common.
I can still remember how
I felt
When my mother used to cook a favorite dish.
I was so embarrassed when she was upset with me.
My secret hiding place was the dark corner beside her steel rack,
Where her prayer beads used to glow greenish in the dark in my hand.
I still
Feel the yearning in me to hear her soft voice calling my name.
I remember
How scared I was when she told me that my father is looking for me.
The view from my childhood bedroom had the setting sun crawling
Down the river, the Brahmaputra each day.
I also remember
The first time, I rode a train to go to grandma’s house (We used to call her “Bubu”).
And till this day, I still haven’t told anyone that
I even
Carry the scent of her hair oil that
She used to use every night before bedtime.
In me, in my childhood memories.
An Aunties Wedding
There was an empty Players box
flattened beneath the dancers
a scent of receding tide on the quay
swept, green, slick as hair oil
bound by ginger sideburns
your dress shaped like a rocket to the moon
a wigwam to play in days before the day
I was five in a white wool suit
bony kneed refused to board her train
or travel the cold tiled floor
to her shining altar
I bet she never noticed the tramps outside the door
or your sisters child that day
now you are chatteringly old – still unhappy
I met you last Saturday
a little boy from nineteen sixty four
Chair of Fire
My father's naughehyde
recliner was the dusky,
sudden pink of pale pigs.
Hair-oil halo
Scrimshaw headrest
He died in bed
My brother, Richard,
did not weep...
he hosed out the hulk
that had held
our father's
few possessions
My brother burned
that old recliner
in a greasy
reluctant fire
Gasoline hissing like snakes
took the place of tears
There once was upon a time
Stories written out of rhyme
Swirling yellow rows of bricks
Munchkins Witches playing tricks
House that fell in lady slippers
Hit the bricks cracks and chippers
Celebration follow the road
Starts the skip for this ode
Never seen me I was there
I'm the guy that does repair
All those scratches kept it yellow
Fix the road I'm the fellow
On the four way intersection
Found you there your direction
Only problem straw hair oil
Picked it up with Toto coil
Raked up leaves soft and floppy
While you slept among the poppy
Road to city gloss and shiny
That's my shift only tiny
Asked the Oz to help today
Sent on road now it's grey
Watch yourself on this trip
Road less travelled not much grip
By the way they took my cart
Need to get back where I start
I'll stick around until you're done
Ruby slippers should be fun
Our roam has brought us here
Under these slicing and cold air
We stood toe to toe
Under this mistletoe.
I saw an escape of light in your eyes
It is just like the goodness of ice
Your hands found my longing neck
Rested as if on a deck.
It was a moment awaited
Now that we are wedded
Love sparkles from my inside
And my fingers trembled as I touched your side.
The whispers of your vows again
Came to my memory like a shower of rain
The laughter now is different
Its echoes, the trees rent.
Your forehead my hair oil painted
A passion true my soul flooded
Invincible lines your fingers drew
On my coy face and I felt new.
Grey painted the light
And the twilight had such a sight
The weather here blew fine
Your lips wrapped in mine.
20/12/2013
It doesn’t take much:
rustling bed covers
a whiff of Old Spice
menacing tattoos,
and I travel
backwards in time,
heart clinched with fear
my hands suddenly small and helpless,
nothing but gulping gasps
where my breath should be.
Your hair oil
Your manicured nails
Your bristly crew cut
Your fevered breath.
My writhing shame
My mangled dreams
My nightly fear
My scabbed up knees
and gangly legs
unwillingly intertwined with yours.
It doesn’t take much
and I am there,
listening to a gaggle of kids
playing on the street I know by heart,
counting the moments
until you release me
and I rejoin them,
not missing a beat
as my trembling legs
propel me over the jump-rope:
just an ordinary little girl
playing innocent games,
once more.
Everybody told me it would do wonder
so I applied it without further delay,
little did I realize that it was a blunder,
no hair on head now, no bad hair day!
====================
Placement:10th ;(June 2011)
Contest:My Funniest Poem ON the Soup
Sponsor:Poet Destroyer
By:kashinath karmakar(11th January 2011)
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