Moses was a senior, quite an old man
God said: “OK, do the best you can"
He raised his rod, split the sea
Just when he had to go pee
"Who do you think I am, God ~ Superman?"
Standing on a balcony
Out by the sea
The waves crash endlessly
Staring back at me
They listen and wait
Watching and pacing
Sharpening the blade
Constantly erasing
Their pain
Dolls line the walls
Familiar faces painted on
They weep for my soul
Praying that I’ll soon be gone
I jump as a rabbit
Ears up and listening
I listen to the pounding drum
Of his crimson dripping daggerling
The door cracks open
An iron odor sways
Through the twisted halls
And into my brain
Inhalation of sanguine
Exhale the question
Will I ever leave this home
That became quite an obsession
I’m the murderer’s apprentice
Willingly taken by his chain
Dishevelled and bloodied
But euphoric all the same
It’s far too late to save me
Ruth: It’s all my fault— my lost hat! How can you forgive me that!
Buddy: Quite an ego you have, miss, taking blame for stealing bliss!
Ruth: I’m contrite! Wasn’t right! My pillow is drenched every night!
Buddy: You make me ashamed, my dear, I chose to chase it— you hear?
Ruth: I wish you had let it go, but there was no way to know.
Buddy: My gallantry would you excuse, had I not worn my shoes?
Ruth: But why’d God take you away, ‘stead of by my side to stay!
Buddy: In Him there is only Light— He’s sad, too, to see our plight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In tribute , of course, to Fried Green Tomatoes
For the “Disrobing Ego” poetrysoup contest :)
The sky’s acid blue, and I have an idea
To be approved by you
Let’s catch a cab to Westminster Pier
We'll be standing awhile in a queue
Let’s torment ourselves with a boat ride
Like in the good old days
Watching marinas on riverside
Passing through open gates
Of many locks on the way to Richmond
And as soon as we moor
Let’s visit the Kew and the Hampton Court
That’s what we’re here for
Let’s lunch in the Privy Kitchen café
Then I’ll get lost in the maze
Smiling the silliest smile I’ll pace there
Trying all possible ways
We’ll go for a ride on a horse-drawn carriage
I’ll chat with the coachman of topics
Not so important like Royals marriage
While you’ll be taking some pics
I’ll buy a walnut brandy before we set sail
Back to the Westminster pier
It’ll be quite an outing to repeat that trail
What do you think, my dear?
I take your silence as a sign of consent
I knew you’d accept my plan
There’s just one nuance, that wasn’t meant
Hope you will understand.
.
Iran was weak and divided.? It was also
quite co-ordinated enough to field a nuclear
Device..? Well rather quickly ' Although all its
Capable bases; had been destroyed by U S
Air strikes just a few months earlier.' Quite an impressive intelligence assesment in all
The (different senarios explained? ) i hope I have been clear and coherent in my summary.? I'd hate to mis-inform anyone.'
Nothing ahead
but a long straight road
I vent out my feelings,
quite an unload
eerily quiet
except the rustling of leaves
waiting for a response
one that will put me on my knees
Letting anyone have power over how i feel
is something I can never reveal
For some reason I still have hope
my mind wondering down a dangerous slope
That hope eventually subsides
slowly restoring my pride
I look at that invite sitting on my table
It still should be fun
even though I have to change it to a minus one.
In the city, there are benches
Placed where people might
Relax and take a load off,
Which is everybody’s right.
They’re either made of metal
Or old-fashioned painted wood,
Found in parks and promenades or where
They’d do the utmost good.
Most bus stops with a shelter
Have a bench for those who wait
And in playgrounds, there are benches
Where the nannies congregate.
My apartment building spans a block
On quite an average street,
Without a bus stop or a park;
It’s nice, but not elite.
Yet recently, a metal bench,
Three seats’ worth, with a back,
Was placed to give my home address
What other buildings lack –
A place to sit, but no one knows
Who ordered such a thing.
It sounds real good, but there are several
Problems it could bring –
The detritus of strangers,
Which is quite a common sight
And perhaps some noisy revelers
To party through the night.
My street is pretty quiet
And I hope a monkey wrench
Hasn’t landed on it with the
Sudden placement of this bench.
Some of you folks think Gershon has quite an imagination
While he doesn’t deny it, he doesn’t recommend you try it
~ Writing poems to ease his constipation
We used to be huge baseball fans
(The Yankees, but, of course!)
And followed all their games and cheered
Until our throats were hoarse.
Our fervor somehow waned and now
We couldn’t even name
The players on the team, although
We still enjoy the game.
While visiting Milwaukee,
We learned there would be a match
Of the Brewers and the Pittsburgh Pirates
Which we (pun!) could catch.
The Pirates pitcher, we found out,
Had quite an arm to wield,
So my husband got us tickets
And we headed to the field.
Their ballpark is a beauty
And we joined in with the crowd
Rooting for their favorite Brewers
As instructed – very loud!
At inning six, a race is held;
Five “sausages” compete.
The winner was Chorizo,
Bratwurst,* sadly, in defeat.
The final score was 4-2,
The Brewers with the prize,
The Pirate pitcher taken out,
Which was a big surprise.
Despite not being N.L.**fans,
We had a lot of fun,
For certain sayings hit the mark
And “When in Rome…” is one.
*The others include Hot Dog, Italian and Polish
**National League
There's a grocery chain in Canada
Known by the name of Loblaw's
That in itself isn't anything special
Till owners named their son after grandpa
Their poor son was blessed by his parents
Didn't think very hard these Loblaws
Baptized their son Robert that's silly
Bob Loblaw, blah blah blah!
Like someone is incessantly babbling on
Making absolutely totally no sense
Bob Loblaw is quite an intelligent man
Bob Loblaw, blah blah blah!
His name makes him sound like a total idiot
When introducing himself to a newbie
Hard as he tries to pronounce each syllable
Can't say it without sounding goofy
Poor Bob will take his name to the grave
Can you see the inscription on his headstone?
How can anyone be sombre while visiting
Imagine how it sounds on the telephone...
Hello, this is Bob Loblaw, blah blah blah!
It’s easier to take a risk
When youth will thus allow
A bounce-back sensibility
Which now I’d disavow.
For when you’re young, you never think
Of all that can go wrong.
You live your life and merrily
(Or not), you roll along.
Yet age gives your perspective
Quite an unexpected jolt.
It may be building slowly
Or strike like a lightning bolt.
No matter how, you’ll realize that
It isn’t paranoid
To assess a risk you’d once indulge
But now you will avoid.
In life, there is no guarantee
For safety or for ease
And older folk have learned that risk
Can bring you to your knees.
FROZEN SIDE OF THE SUN
Everything has two sides, you will find
That which is thought hot can still hide
A secret, to be concealed as a priority
Yet is shared, only with a favoured few
And offering quite an unexpected view
And never made visible to the majority
Could even the sun have its frozen side
Such an illogical concept, for any mind
A pleasant nature, full of warm feelings
Can, when in an alternate manifestation
Turn suddenly, and expose a soul of ice
But which is the more true, one may ask
Without any hot sun under which to bask
Perhaps it is an artifice or a clever device
And in its complexity, needs explanation
Posing a challenge to all further dealings
If the mask has dropped, truth has begun
I wonder what might lurk behind a smile
Perhaps it is somewhat like a refrigerator
Warm outside, that keeps the inside cold
A heart of ice shards, or maybe it’s gold
As either a furry puppy or scaly alligator
In determining which, ignore any denial
As there may be a frozen side of the sun
See that Boody advertisement to the right?
Each of those three young ladies are a delight.
They are sporting undies sold by their company.
What a beautiful sight they are conveying to me!
The one on the bottom is the one I like best.
Chubby girls all look great when are underdressed.
I wish that lady could pop right out of the screen.
Together, we would make quite an amorous scene!
The setting sun weaves a poem,
blossoming
unsung trochaic along the river basin
(Nurulhuda Junction. Teesta)
Sometimes it feels quite an estranged thought to realise that living is a mundane day to day thing to sustain. The welfare causes are demanding all those intricate , subtle personal delicate feelings, into a powermonger possessive expositional ownership, for no good understood parameter.
The book was well versed. Muzzammil was lying on his bed, half awakened. He took his glass pairs off. A pair of opaque spectacles, with the littlemost effort, both the bifocal parts are often sweaty. He was waiting for his wife’s special morning tea, everyday. Remote area in the suburban side, every day newscaster is often quote a belated story there.
December, 2025
In modern times, it's plain to see.
We are a slave to our own technology.
It's more than a habit, it's quite an affliction.
To see such mobile phone addiction.
We scroll and swipe, but at what cost?
The art of communication is lost.
With every ding and every ping.
Our lives revolve around every ring.
Our eyes fixated on our screens.
Oblivious to everything.
A virtual world, with no holds barred.
No need to leave a calling card.
Whilst scrolling through each notification.
You need to curb this phone fixation.
As people walk down city streets.
There nose fixed firmly at their feet.
Absorbed within those tiny screens.
Distracted from almost everything.
We are using whilst we drive our cars.
To me, this is just so bizarre.
You're on TikTok, you're on hands free.
Whilst aimlessly scrolling through your feed.
A life inside this tiny bubble.
Can cause so much pain and so much trouble.
Let's pause and ponder, take a step back.
Find balance again, get back on track.
For while tech can connect us, it can also divide.
So let’s cherish real moments and open our eyes.
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