Saturday, May 24, 2008
Going on a break, a week, maybe two,
Swamped with commitments and things to do
Obligations demand all of my 'little' time
So much that I am not able to rhyme,
Whatever it maybe, I intend to be back
I just need the time to get on track,
Once it's done, I will be in joyous heaven
Hope to be back here, by June seven!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Kids, with family dreams farfetched,
Parents, who by fate were snatched,
Living on life, almost as if detached,
They went on not once they kvetched,
A little boy there, had once sketched,
His mom's picture, in his mind etched,
One day, though, he was to be fetched,
A family who had grown quite attached,
The day, when he was to be dispatched,
He took along, a shell slightly blotched,
And a discarded soapbox, mismatched,
Rubber soles, in his shoes, very patched.
Comic book, with pages coming detached,
A postcard, that was never dispatched,
All in his tiny box, he held, securely latched,
On one hand, these memories, he clutched,
The other, toward his new mom, he stretched!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Being the way, we both are,
East or west, be it near or far,
Someone who I can count on,
Today, tomorrow or next eon,
Forever, for me, she will be there,
Rain or shine, no matter where,
It has been so, since I can remember,
Equal she is to a family member,
Notable is the impulsive rapport we share
Deep secrets and our soul, we do bare!
Friday, May 16, 2008
As he grew older, he could do whatever he preferred.
A mechanic, he could become,
Fixing up, with his set of tools, a car’s brake drum.
He could be a chef, if he so wanted,
Cooking up a storm and some spaghetti undaunted.
He could be a plumber, if he so desired,
To set up a Jacuzzi or a bathtub, he could be hired,
A carpenter, he’d make - one very fine,
Beginning, with his stool that he could now design
He had it in him to be a teacher,
Chalk, in his life, would then be a regular feature.
Any role he wanted, he could don,
Achieve anything he wanted, that he set his sights on!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
To nothing else, I was paying heed,
Time seemed to be running out,
I could hear kids playing about,
Blurry writing and scratched out papers,
Lighting was dim, with burning tapers,
I could see the results, below average,
I felt like, I was trapped in a cage,
An imminent exam and its nightmares,
I am beginning to pull out my hairs,
Its just a phase and it will pass,
And, tackle it, I will; hope to surpass!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Brought a warm feeling,
Buzzing bees drone,
Buds open, layers peeling.
A glowing transformation,
When trees come alive,
After the winter gestation,
In spring they all thrive.
Seasons come and go,
Nature is faithful as ever,
Putting on the best she can show,
Break the cycle, she does never.
Nature leaves her sign,
Like the artist, who is famed.
She weaves her intricate design,
That he in his picture, once framed.
Friday, May 9, 2008
A plastic bottle, on their first trip, they shared,
A dirty handkerchief, which he wiped many a tear,
A crumpled note, which said he was very dear.
Just these are left, from their love before,
As he trudges along, aimless, like an unhinged door!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
And, a smile always by a frown,
Is happiness, in this world a crime?
If so, every human should do their time.
Being happy is a feeling so pleasant,
That people tend to get complacent
Happiness is a journey, not a destination
Every step of the way, needing satisfaction,
Two facts of life – despair and delight
Repeated oft, on the verge of trite!
But, like a coin with two sides,
One gets the path that one decides.
Overly cautious, we are, maybe?
Skeptics, we turn out to be,
Believe in it, begin to trust,
Be a little blithe, if you must.
Dream on! Be happy, don’t be paranoid,
Dreams can fill up any empty void,
Life is too short to sit and worry.
Move on forward, with fear – a nary!
Monday, May 5, 2008
"Three men", if I say, would suffice,
Like the three blind mice,
Or like the monkeys three,
Made of wood, that once was a tree.
A gasp, a frown and a smile,
All been there for a while,
They look hollowed out,
But, standing tall, without doubt.
Their faces show them to be 'wise'
Who, not long ago, were held in a vice,
They, with their bodes, mis-formed,
Portray a sense of being informed.
As they silently keep watch,
Of the envious glances, they catch,
With legs that hold them stable,
To have the last laugh, they are able.
This sculpture, this piece of art,
Among other things, does impart,
Albeit being little and small,
It does have the quality to enthrall.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
About my mother, do you want to hear?
She's made of sugar and spice.
My mother is so very nice.
She ensured clean clothes & food on the table,
She has read to us, many a fable.
To my sister and I, her two children,
My mother sure was the mother hen.
Her sacrifices are one to umpteen.
Of others welfare, she was always keen.
Because of her, our family is thriving.
My mother is always quite forgiving.
Career, life and education.
She handled all with dedication.
She faced all challenges for so long,
My mother is unbelievable strong.
We pray she has the best in life,
Let health and happiness be rife.
She does so much with hardly any rest.
My mother is absolutely the best.
Today is a special and wonderful day.
Though everyday should be 'mother's day'.
For her, we have a lot of respect.
My mother is just so perfect.
With Mother's day right around the corner, a poem for my mother...
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Will keep them all and probably revise none!
There are favorites, Thriteen, NaPoWriMo, Ours!
How about least favorites, a few, maybe none!
A line I love, is "A subtle spectator, Veiled in the violets watches"
I really loved this by a fellow participant, UL - a great one!
Surprised that I was able to find ideas for a poem everyday!,
Continue to write, I will, probably not daily, but quite often!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Where strangeness inhabits,
Once upon a time,
Lived a pigeon and two rabbits
One fine day, they made
A pretty big ruckus,
About their new find,
That was an abacus
The rabbits were hopping mad
And the pigeon cooed all day
They couldn't compromise
As neither would step away
Off they went to find,
The town's former tovarich
Who once lived in Russia,
But moved here to fish
They thought he was smart
And he did his math
He took it away from them
And went on his own path
The pigeon flew away
And the rabbit hopped back home
As for the comrade,
As a nomad, he does roam
Where is it in the map?
This land, you wonder,
By the communes of Gravelines
It is right in the yonder!