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Wednesday

A dusty rant

(Inspired by Walter De La Mare) 
 
Slowly silently now the dust
walks the earth in a cloud of fust
This way and that way it peers and seeps
through window slits and keyhole peeps
One by one the sunbeams catch
the dust motes floating in that patch
Frightened of attack by a dust wall
with brooms of heather he sweeps the hall

Dust on the coat
dust on the wall
dust on the shoes
dust on the shawl
dust in the computer
dust in the carpet
dust in the cupboard
dust in the TV set
 

Dust motes dancing in the square
dust mites floating in the air
Dust, the last frontier
dust, swaggering buccaneer
 

I shall fight this scourge, this invasion
Till the day I finally fall
and turn into- what else? dust! 


~

Tuesday

Some new year cheer - Contributions called for a new anthology

A new anthology of Spirited Poetry is being mooted by the employer of one Mr. Montague Egg ( he of Dorothy Sayers fame), merchandiser of fine wine and spirits.
 
Yours truly was entrusted with the arduous task of coming up with possible titles for the book. Here they are:
Spirited poems
In high spirits
White, red, and rosé
Rum ones
Vermouth verses
Driftwood and beach bums
The rising of the froth
Pink gins and blue frogs
Blotto boogies
Poetry and the art of primary fermentation (ref. winemaking)
Glug glug glug.. hic
 ~

Ta da! :D Wish you all a very happy new year and may the muse be kind. 
 

Monday

Cauliflower girl

So I have this friend who loves to eat all things cauliflower. Ergo one was inspired to write this lyric on the lines of Uptown Girl that had been hovering in the mind since morning.

Instructions for use: To be sung to the rhythm and tune of Uptown Girl. 

Cauliflower girl
She's been living in a cauliflower world
I bet she's never had a cap-sicum guy
I guess she's never tried an onion fry
We are rooting for a cauliflower girl..
She's our cauliflower girrll..

And when she's frying and cooking she's fine
And when she's shopping she'll know that she's sub-lime

You think we're not so tough
Just because
we're in thrall of this cauliflower girl!

Saturday

Haven


Hyacinth floats on humid water.
The river is now a dirty trickle.
Black winged Stilts teeter on spindly legs
plunging needlepoint beaks into the sludge.
Sharp eyed Kites glide low
on the lookout for carrion.
At a crossroad signal
a man on motorbike checks his reflection in perspex clad towers.
Buses, rickshaws, Santros, tempos with their raucous horns
warn others of forward, reverse, sideways movement
before rolling on like mustard seeds.
Ancient crumbling back-to-back
houses with wooden latticed windows chin-up to their tall RCC cousins.
The endless continuum of shops 
Selling synthetic carpets, cooking utensils, and zari-work kurtas
heaves and throbs like a living organism.
Vehicle exhaust and cigarette fumes
mingle with the hiss and sizzle of streetside schezwan rice
and mobile ringtones from denim pockets.
 
In the honeycomb maze of streets is a small wooden door.
Inside are walls of blue black Deccan basalt- cool to touch
And a statue anointed vermilion.  
The mandatory brass bell trembles mid-air. 
Here sunlight tiptoes in  
and silence pools.

~
(Published in Reading Hour, May 2012)

Tuesday

Limericks

There was a pleasant old man of Fife
who ate papadums with a knife
Said he what is life
if not full of strife
Knifing papadums pleases the wife.
~~

A young monkey from Bihar
once walked into Tihar
He peeked into the cell
of a very powerful mell
Said he, this is heaven, not hell!