Sunday, March 14, 2010


Wanton Soup for the Sad Girl

The blue cup and saucers,
Lie waiting for the tea,
The green paint brush,
Is dripping wet.
The glass lies broken,
The kettle merrily boiling,
The stove is on ,
Or is it?
The lighter can’t be found,
The dolls are stacked together,
Almost like a family,
A happy family?
Who can tell?
There’s a book in front,
It says chicken soup for the soul,
In good shape, maybe unread.
The family is tight,
The table is set,
A family portrait half-finished,
The water is on,
The bathroom door locked,
The tub with a duck is filling fast,
The boat lays waiting by the sink.
A girl sits alone ,
Down by the corner,
Sniffing, weeping, sad.
The tears roll down,
They don’t taste sweet,
A swish of hand,
The moistened cheeks,
The doll on the ground,
The severed head.
The needle, the thread ,
Couldn’t put poor Barbie,
Back together again,
The mother knocks,
A jerk sight towards the door,
A shake of head,
“Not now, it’s ok”,
- “I’m sure it is,
Dinner’s ready, dad’s waiting”
A whispered sigh,
A shrug to share,
The doll left alone,
The child moves on.
The family waits,
And another too.
The mom, the dad,
The daughter sits.
A big bowl of hidden secrets,
The cover slowly removed
And a hint of smile.
A bowlful of joy,
Taken one spoon a time,
Cooled by the warm breath,
Of a sorrowed soul.
The favourite remedy,
Of smart mothers,
An oriental speciality,
One passed down ages.
One soup to rule them,
One soup to soothe them,
One soup to bring them all,
And in the happiness bind them.
Chicken soup it is not,
Though the little girl,
Inside every man’s soul,
Craves for it, day in day out,
It’s the wanton soup,
That works the best.
And that is why,
Every kid in the Middle Earth
Knows this saying by heart,
A Bowl of Wanton soup a day,
Keeps all the Sadness away..!!

Friday, March 12, 2010



Musings of an empty glass

A full existence I had,
Of whiskey and wine
A relishing experience
Of fresh juice with dine

I offered my whole
And the contents within
To creatures of all kinds
Humans and children, fat and thin

The clinks of ice,
Upon my body
The sensuality, the feeling,
Makes an orgasm look shoddy

The drop of condensed water,
Rolling down my spine
Ooh such an arousal
Never had I so fine

The woman's touch,
Around my base
And her lips on me,
I rest my case

The night was young
The revellers too
The mood was hot
The women too

A sip here,
A bite there,
A refill here,
Drunk without a care

One peg and two,
Maybe three maybe four
The night is young,
One more you pour.

I love my life,
And I boast to the pans,
"I too live amongst humans,
The base heating sans.
I am filled with elixir,
And taken for a dance.
I’m not thrown by housewives,
Heck, courted by all
If you want to move up in life,
Just give me a call."

The boast was tall,
Expectations were high,
But as says the kettle lore,
With high pressure comes a sigh.

As the night progressed,
And revellers grew faint
Lesser and lesser I was filled
Finger stains did me taint

The ranting went on,
I was left alone,
On some ravaged sofa cushion
And for company, a half eaten cone

The night wore on,
The bottles fell,
The people too,
As far as i could tell.
The silence was deathly,
The music too,
They called it metal rock,
I, 'stomping in the loo'

My bones were tired,
Aged, the strength they lacked
A little more pressure
And they would've cracked
Broken, crushed even,
A million pieces of pain
Humpty dumpty and the wall,
All over again

I can worry about the night,
Or look forward to the next
Of the maids gentle hands
Caressing me inside out
The soapy water, on my back,
The finger down my spine,
A gentle rub and a whiff of breath

Back to the platform,
With friends and foes
Stories shared, scratches bared,
Proudly recounting conquests and woes
A grinning dream upside down
Numbers exchanged, can just wait
The next pick up,
Shall we call it a date?

Friday, March 05, 2010

Last Rites

The colourful umbrellas,
and the dull raincoats.
The beeping of mobiles,
and the crowd whizzing past,
Of unending loud silences,
and continuing silent screams.

Of sleepless nights,
and countless mosquito bites,
The pitters and patters,
and the dreams that do shatter,
Of the rains that keep coming,
and the hopes that keep going.

Of the tall monroe posters,
and of the ferrari's too.
Of childhood romances,
and college one's too.
The whistling on the stairs,
the jeers, the taunts and more.

Of missed catches,
and games that make lore.
Of the luck of an ass,
and the work of a cat.
One a dilligent servant,
with fate as the master.

The kahani main twist,
and the countless lost moments.
Of siestas at 3 a.m.
and long busy afternoons.
Of the short walk home,
and the long walk back.
Of the kismet connections,
and missed calls from you.
The wish for backspaces in life
and for the elusive enter too.

For the hung decisions,
and the contemplating hours
Of the high volumed outbursts,
and low pitched moans.
Of the unholy groans,
and of the grinding bones.
Of the whole day shoppings,
and the unspent millions.

Of lust, greed and envy,
Evenings of no joy and all pain.
Of wet dreams,
and barbed wires.
Of invalid passwords,
and flattened tyres.
Of the semi colon;
after every sentence,
and the long pauses in-between.
Of the unsaid epics,
and unexchanged vows.

Of the hit before the K.O.,
and the slow rerun called life,
Of the countless emotions,
ones mixed with alcohol,
The first tears that showed,
and the last said goodbye ...

A Testimonial

A stranded soul, does solace seek,
A friend to hold, a friendly peek.
The curtains drawn, of shyness tight,
Of cautiousness, does impulse fight.
A friendly smiile, is all it takes,
To recognize, among the fakes.

Of swords drawn, of letters torn,
Of sparkling eyes, the girl forlorn.
Wandering alone, in the blinding night,
Of roxy's howl, and mosquitoes bite,
Of mails and chats, of phone calls at night.
Of misunderstandings, and petty name callings,
Of drunken tears, of solace of dears,
Don't worry no more, for the end is near.

Of two years spent, of memories bound,
Of friends and foes, acquaintances found.
Of treats and fights, and outsiders too.
Of proposals, of rejections and dejections too.
A parting thought, on thyself trust the don't,
the won't just say just do.
Here's a toast, to our friendship,
the yesterday, today and forever too

Dedicated to the two years of my life well spent ..!!

Related Posts with Thumbnails