Waiting for you ! GPF # 1

It has been declared by zigzackly that 19th Aug till 31st Aug shall be a Godawful Poetry Fortnight.


*******

Here I await,
in an ecstatic state
perchance you may walk down this lane

Here I mope,
hoping against hope
That all my prayers won’t be in vain

Keeping a watch,
Eager and staunch
Until I see you, here shall I remain.

Your mock frowns
are casting me down
And Are slowly driving me insane.

A love like mine
So steadfast and divine
Is not daunted by your feigned disdain .

Ah! you come in view!
Oh! Who is that with you?
My God! That looks like my friend Dwayne!!

The scoundrel! The Cheat,
Is wearing MY jackeat!
And walking with My love and My great Dane!

The wind let a shriek!
The clouds poured bleak,
Trying to extinguish my blazing pain

Alas! I stand alone
in the eye of cyclone.
Drenched to the bones in the pelting rain.



*******


This has all the ingredients of what I consider a bad poem.
A relentless rhyme. A whole lot of bad poets give undue importance to rhyming. They also like to coin new and strange words for the sake of a rhyme. ( this does not include Ogden Nash and his ilk. )
A lament, this wrings out some sort of universal truths from seemingly ordinary objects and events.( The winds shrieking, the clouds pouring etc )
Exclamation marks. (Ah! Oh ! Alas!!)

Rain Haikus

The rain has inspired the haikus posted here.
Will keep adding to them.

**
Little paper boat
Bravely rides the swirling stream.
June is here.

**

Teachers droning in the class
on rhythms and rhymes.
Butterflies are dancing in the rain.

**

The Magical Romance of Freddy the Frog.

Hi folks ,
this is a work under construction. Any suggestions will be most welcome.

--------------

Among the reeds,
munching the weeds,
Freddy the frog sat
singing his love song

Ribbid ! Ribbid! Ribbid!

Freddy was a frog
with blue blood in his veins,
His great great uncle Ness.
had kissed a true Princess.

“When the sun meets the rain,

then under a rainbow

The magic takes place”,
Freddy was told
by his grandma Grace!

“Here I am and
there the rainbow,

but where
oh! where is
the princess mine!”
He looked skywards
for a heavenly sign.

Jogging along she came,
on the winding path ahead,
in a red track suit and
a red band round her head

Panting hard, with
a hand on her heart
she slumped against a tree.

Freddy quivered
like a young tadpole!
His indomitable heart
joyously sang,
she the one! This is she!

Ribbid ! Ribbid! Ribbid!

Freddy hopped closer,
and uttered a respectful
greeting-

Ribbid! Ribbid ! Ribbid!

She stifled a scream
then bent to look at him

The sun, the rain and rainbow,
in fact,
the whole dang universe
seemed to conspire
to assist.
So Freddy leaped
like a lightening
And smacked
one ardent kiss on her lips.

Oh ! she said !
Ooooo!! she cooed
with love light in her eyes,
and tenderly whispered
in his eager ear

“Ribbid! Ribbid! Ribbid!”

Break- a poem by Avi das

Have you ever
Held your patience to test
To put together
A broken China doll?

Join you may with loving care
Make near invisible the cracks
And erase many a tear
But never again can make it whole!

For those of us
Who seek to break
That which we have
For that which we don’t

It may pay
To try and bring
Together some smithereens
And from it to know

A mirror cracked
May be rejoined
But can never reflect
A whole!

-Avi

Limericks !

A few old Limericks which belong here.

1.

I have this problem you see-
Every one I meet with I disagree -
There are different kinds-
With different sets of minds-
I wish the world had a few mores like- ME !!

2.

I thought I would write a limerick or two
As it was a holiday-I had nothing else to do
Rhyming words is such a fun
I can think of hundred and one-
It’s the form and the meter and the rhythm that I cant quite get a grip on to.

3.

Such dear little girl was Fanny.
So- trusting –so sweet –real honey.
She met wicked Clive
Who took her for a Drive
And her mommy is now a Granny.


4.

Good ,Bad & Ugly went to town
Their sorrows they wanted to drown-
In a bottle of cheap booze
But they fought o’er a Flooze
Now Good N Bad are Dead- & Ugly has left the town

5.

Poor Einstine was sad,
His math book was all that he had
His teachers they failed him
His friends they nailed him

Because E=mc2 was just too rad !!!!


6.

Leo Da Vinci went to Florence
With a plan to impress the Lawrence-

Of Medici you know-
But had to run from the law

Thus-Poor Leo Vinci Left Florence.

Express delivery

Express Delivery

The poet sat armed

With his pod and pen

Facing the fearsome

deadlines again

The poet was a master

The poet was a tease

He knew very well

Just How to please

“Give them mush”

he was fond of saying.

“Mush is the way to get ‘em”.

He sat with his pen

waiting for the mush

to come out surging

With the familiar gush

The hunger, the craving

The passion, the yen

But none poured

Out of his seasoned pen!

He shook his pen,

and dipped his pen

In the bottle of mush

Again and again,

Oh No! The bottle,

was dry as a bone!

He was out of mush

He thought with a groan.

The days went by

The pen stayed dry,

No longer could wait

in this desperate state,

So he set out to dial

two eight eight eight

eight eight eight eight!

“Mush-R-Us?

rush a refill of mush

Premium, Commercial or refined!

Anything is fine.

This is a matter of

life and death

My mush-less muse is

Gasping for breath!

So Pronto, right now!

And don’t ask me HOW! ”

***

"Ding Dong!" He Sprang

to the door in a rush

Outside there stood

The Goddess of Mush!

A radiant vision,

A dream surreal

from the top of her head

To her stiletto heel,

Slowly the Goddess

Sashayed in the room

Her eyes held a promise

Of an exquisite doom.

She had shaken poor poet

To his foundation

As she stretched out her arms

in an ardent invitation.

She kissed him on the lips

amused to see him blush

The poet had dissolved

In a puddle of mush.

Walking in the rain.

----------------

Walking in the rain

Sharing an umbrella,

A drop on my cheek

You flick away gently

and get drenched

by huge splash

of a passing wheel

Your earth smell

Envelopes me

As I rub my cheek

on your shoulder.

Your face a little flushed,

or maybe the effect of

my rose tinted glasses.

Walking on the promenade,

feeling the rain,

We have come this way before,

You and I,

Some other monsoon,

Some other time.

---------------------------

Thanks to- walmink

http://www.flickr.com/photos/walmink/241918563/

Rendezvous [ a pantoum]

I watched him from the window,

Under the awning of the coffee shop

Across the street from my house,

Waiting for the rain to stop

Under the awning of the coffee shop

His eyes kept darting down the road

Waiting for the rain to stop

His hair all damp and tousled,

His eyes kept darting down the road

Looking at time again and again,

His hair all damp and tousled,

Face stormy as the skies overhead

Looking at time again and again,

Finally having made up his mind,

Face stormy as the skies overhead,

He left the coffee shop behind

Finally having made up his mind,

he stepped out in the pouring rain,

He left the coffee shop behind

And faded away down the lane

He stepped out in the pouring rain

Across the street from my house,

And faded away down the lane

As I watched him from my window.

-----------------------------------------

[About Pantoums read here-

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantoum]

Seduction

Soapy red hands

clean glasses for the wine

rivulets of sweat snake

Slowly down the spine

Damp tendrils plastered on

clammy forehead

Cooking in the kitchen

On a scorching summer day

Custard on the stove

Is waiting to be stirred

Cucumber slices are chilled

ready for the bread

Frosty Mango punch is

What the heart desires

Quiche in the oven

has almost caught fire

Time to get dressed,

Gosh! Is it almost six?

Pink chiffon saree

Ought to do the trick.

Or maybe that sexy

Peek-a-boo dress ?

Pearls studs or dangling

earrings will impress ?

A flick of a brush just

Before you arrive

And a walk thru the mist of

Chanel No five.

Wine is on the ice,

Candles flicker in the breeze.

Heady gardenia intoxicates,

and fairy lights in the trees

Set up by the pool

Is a table for two

Nothing to be done

Except for waiting for you.

Bad poets are people too!

Please excuse me if I ignore you for a while,
I am not being impolite,
But please indulge me, please understand,
I have a poem to write.

Poems don’t get written easily,
One has to go through an obstacle course
Of rhythm, rhyme, and simile.
And trying to fit the words in a meter by sheer brute force.

Ideas, imagery are alien to me,
One has to think so hard!
I get my inspiration from Rhymezone,
And the verses from a Hallmark card

Please excuse me for a while,
I am almost done with my pome.
If they don’t like it in Writer's Cafe,
Why, there is always ‘Poetry.com’!

For Grandma

I have now understood,

The meaning of the songs

she crooned to me.

The mumble jumble words,

the touch of her wrinkled hands

on my young cheeks.

The murmurs in the dark,

Filling me with reassurance,

I know their meanings now.

They were the memories

which she had inherited

from her mother,

along with her blood,

And she from hers.

I see her eyes in my mirror,

And her smile

Smiles back at me

Like a blessing.

A shared treasury

of memories, and shared blood

Passed on faithfully.

now my inheritance.

Who do I pass it on to?

With rocks, you never can tell.

With rocks, you never can tell.

Solid and unobtrusive,
a brooding, hulking presence,
over the horizon.

yet a cold rock may
Hide within itself,
a fire.
On eruption it consumes
All in it’s wake,
leaving behind
devastation and
burnt land.

With rocks, you never can tell.

Sometimes, an angel hides
inside a rock,
Waiting for
a sculptor's probing gaze
to release
his trapped soul.

With rocks, you never can tell.

Valentine's Day ? No Thanks!

I really don’t fancy you at all

I adore guys, hunky, rich and tall

But what can I do,

I am stuck with you,

You are ‘The bird in hand’ after all.

........................................

An earthworm found

next to him a pretty face

He exclaimed,

“I am smitten, I must confess

Can I make you mine?

Will you be my valentine?”

She thundered- "IDIOT!

I am your other end!”

Memories.

Summer showers

Carry your fragrance.

I fill my lungs

With your memories.

I have erased you

from my mind

But bodies have

memories too.

Coffee, hot coffee !!!

[These are a few thoughts on my favorite brew ! So let's take a coffee break.]

1.

Coffee, hot coffee-
with poison fumes,
like a cobra uncoiling
lazily from my cup.

Coffee strong coffee-
not everyone's brew,
it takes a strong heart.

2.

Lukewarm coffee,
sugarless and bitter,
like love gone stale.....

Bile rises in my throat,
Stale smoke in the room
or is it this lukewarm coffee ?

How about getting me a tea?
anything is better
than a lukewarm coffee.

3.

Waiter, bring me a cup of strong coffee,
and don't hand me that menu card.
I do not crave the brazilian blend
Just get me my usual, good ol' 'Kaapee'.

Waiter, bring me a fresh cup of coffee,
No! Do not take away the old cup.
Let me live with the illusion for awhile,
That She was here, the one who didn't show up.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
( and a poem by my Fav poet.)



Before its too late
While I'm still sober
No angels, no sleigh bells
None of that clover

In case we're not talking today
Or partying or meeting
A perfectly ordinary
Christmas greeting

Stay well, eat well, drink well
Be of good cheer
A very merry christmas
And a very happy new year

Regards
Rohinton had-too-much-rum-cake Daruwala

Blame it on the martini.

I just adore a tipsy man.
Not drunk--
just a little fuzzy,
with an easy grin
which hasn't gone foolish.
He stops stomping,
lowers his guard,
and learns to trust.
Spontaneous
and delightfully fragile,
with a dreamy look
and a knowing smile,
A little boy
who plays games
like "Dare!"
A romantic
with surprise hugs
and stolen kisses,
which he can later
blame on the booze.
I just adore a tipsy man.

Haiku ? If you insist.

Somewhere here, under

the debris of broken dreams,

I have lost a poem.

Raking the rubble,

I accept that some poems

are born to be landfill.

The Isha Effect

I have a poem

Bursting out of me.

It started as a smile,

Then a giggle,

And then a loud,

Enthralling peal

Of laughter.

A melody without

A tune,

Today

I have become

My poem.

An ode to the Metrosexual Man

Who or why or what or where
Is this phenomenon,
A Metrosexual man ?

His hair is streaked,
His nails are buffed
His face has a Mediterranean tan.

In the bygone days
When Guy were guys
And girls rejoiced in being girls,

There was no question
Who slept at nights,
With hair trussed in kinky curls.

Pastel pinks,
And minty greens
Real men never ever touched.

Give them denims,
Charcoal or khakis
A pinstriped shirt a fashion “must”.

It sounds boring
I know that there
Should be a fine tuned balance.

But a metrosexual man
is the only one who -
can tell a frill from a valance.