Reign of rigor

Nature rules supreme,
Sovereign is her state,
Distinctions, there are none,
Her subjects for her are one.
Majestic she holds her fort,
Even in the autumn of life,
Supply, she does to all,
The sweet nectar of joy!
All creatures survive,
Under her just rules.
Additions there are a few,
Subtractions of late, many.
Men, her prized creation,
Caused her kingdom’s anarchy.
Nature, however rules supreme
And, sovereign is her state!

Circus ruckus

On this October evening divine,
Plans for a trip are in the design,
Of all the places, where do we go?
Soon enough, you’ll come to know.

Off to see all the animals, there,
Something else that not many’d dare,
Acrobats and flamethrowers around,
So many things that do astound.

Ropes of the trapeze were strained,
Performers for hours had trained,
The clowns came out to give a pose,
Keeping the others, on their toes.

The ringmaster is the spine,
Majestic is his royal reign,
Other things add to the ruckus,
That was our trip to the circus!

Her calling

Lost in thought, on a lazy afternoon,
Her recent past flashed by then,
Seemed like time went by, just too soon,
Scooting by were her unfulfilled yen.

Cajoling herself out of day-dream,
She wondered, if she was a recluse,
Awakened from the stupor by a scream,
Tempering him became her excuse.

Dashing up to the source of cry,
Unevadeable responsibilities in her tow,
Picking him up, nimble and spry,
For she was a mother now!

She loved his every little freckle,
Smothered by loving pecks, she was,
Her life now had become a speckle,
Of little milestones and a lot of pause!

Olympics

It is an essential part of life,
This glorious game of sport,
Harmonious and absent of strife,
It is an essential part of life,
Catnaps and quick bites are rife,
Sourness is disagreeable & is thwart,
It is an essential part of life,
This glorious game of sport,

Crown prince!

The Prince!!!
In his priestly robes,
Adorning the royal ring,
He strolls through the garden,
Waving to the awaiting throng of crowds,
Under the magnifying glass of public eye, all the time,
His private life, and his childhood dreams, taking a backseat,
Oh! There are unseen and unheard rigors of being the crown prince.

A saga once more

Down the stairwell, she rolled,
With her, died her secret,
So he thought! but truth be told,
there was something he'd regret.

A mute spectator peering through,
In a roll of film, he caught the action,
He was found by her killer, though,
Beaten, almost dead, pleased at his infraction.

Back to life, slowly was nursed,
By a doctor, who upon him stumbled,
He kept to himself, his lips pursed,
but about a guy, he always mumbled.

A conversation, over the telephone,
About the killer, he overheard,
his ears, he quickly honed,
It was time for action, he feared.

The news caused a stir all over,
His fame shattered by his past,
Over her grave, the mute guy hovered,
Glad, she found her closure, at last!

A dog's life

He was brought in as a puppy,
Romping around, he was happy,
He didn't have a care in the world,
On the sandy beach, he rolled.

Older he grew, he was stubborn,
Impatience, in his master he'd discern,
With a dog trainer, he spent his time,
He grew bigger, into his prime.

He knew to respond to a whistle,
Seeing strangers, his fur would bristle,
Loyal, he was to his master,
He had prevented many a disaster.

In the backyard, he did spy,
A little girl, eating her pie.
He went closer, wanting to befriend,
And, a friendly paw, he did extend.

Soon, the two were inseparable,
To be without one, the other wasn't able,
Thus, they continued to live on,
soon, they realized, how time had gone.

Time passed by, he became slower,
He couldn't lead, became a follower,
Day-by-day, he grew weaker,
He could hardly drink from his beaker.

The vet said, he'd soon be gone,
upon the master, the bills piled on,
They wanted for him, all the comfort,
For he had loyally, once held fort.

His little friend was inconsolable,
To forget him, she was unable,
All the good times, together they spent,
she remembered, amidst, her lament.

A new beginning...

They lived in the building, thatched,
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!

Choices

When he was a child, he always heard,
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!

Keepsakes

A hockey puck, from the first date, they dared,
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!

A figment

In a mystical land,
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!

Creative exercise

Unless I keep writing, my skills will molder,
Especially since, now I am getting older,
Writing is a passion, creativity my motive,
April is a month to pen, to keep up my votive.
Distractions everywhere, I have to manage
If I do focus, I can create many a page,
The key is to sort ideas, maybe splinter
To keep on writing, without any linger
Onto a catchy title, edit and punctuate,
That is all to it, something for me to create!

A tall tale

Aboard the caprussule they left
Back into time, they would mozzle
At maneuvering it, they were adept
In outer space, cozily they nuzzle

Soon, they reached centuries back
Worried that on them, others would prey
They huddled together, with their cack
All they wanted was to find their skrey

Once they had what they came for
Off they went, traveling eons
A tale of adventure from yore
Of creatures known as glureons!