This poem based on a joke on eggs (!) is dedicated to Timothy, a fellow-poet here at HP….I  was reminded of that joke about eggs  by Timothy’s comment on my recent poem: “Corax versus Tisias”.  
Timothy:  “This is great, Raj, another humourous poem with a good meaning, if you are an Egg or a Crow, lol! Keep them coming!!!!~<3<3:):)☺♂♀♥♠♣♦◘☻◙•○.O♫” …
Well, here’s another humorous poem, Timothy – and dedicated to you…



Dad, the Kid, and the Girl Next Door

(1)
“Dad,”* says 6-year-old Tim
back from the neighbour’s
“Sandra next door and I’ve decided
to get married”

Dad laughs…What do these kids know? he thinks…
I’ll humour him, just kid along
with this precocious child of mine


(2)
“But you’re too young, Tim,”
says Dad

“That’s OK,” says Tim
“Sandra doesn’t mind I’m a year
younger than she”


“Oh,” says Dad
“but marriage is such
a huge responsibility”

“Yeah,” says Tim quick and sharp
“Haven’t you seen my school reports?
Teacher always says I’m hugely responsible;
it’s the same on Sandra’s card”


Dad’s smile weakens
“Well, what will the two of you
do for money?”

“Oh, we’ve worked that one out
We get $20 a week in pocket money
between us and we reckon we’ll take
on extra jobs:
I can mow our lawn;
and she’ll wash dishes at her home
Beside we’ll save a lot of money
since we don’t at all eat out
and lodging is free -
a week here and the next at Sandra’s”


(3)
Now Dad has lost his smile
These kids have thought of everything,
he thinks.  I’ve got to do better –
come up with an objection that’ll  strike fear


“Have you thought, Tim,” says wise old Dad
“about babies? Married people make babies –
what you going to do about that?”

“Simple,” says Tim the kid, cool and unperturbed
“We’ve googled all that:
Every time Sandra lays an egg
I’ll crush it under foot!”

Dad sighs with relief…

We are just pawns in an over sized game of chess.
          We shall be played repeatedly, but I digress.
                    For even a small man must play his part.
                              In this land of War and Art.

….concerning my adventures in Hell, as others have spoken of theirs in Heaven, and of the extrapolations thereof…



1
All right, you guys
I mean even neurosurgeons
are telling us now how real is Heaven
They’ve been there and back
so I guess you’d believe me
(just me an irreverent poet)
if I told you there’s Hell
for I’ve been there and catapulted back:
I mean trust me, guys

2
So in my nights
I was there in Hell
and the Red Master said:
“You’ve got a choice, buddy
to determine your eternity”
Well I knew straight away I was in Big ****
Should have read my Big Book
when I was on Planet Earth

3
Red Master showed me a room
where the inmates were
up to their necks in ****
and I said:  *“No, I’ll give this the miss”

And so Red Master showed me
the next room where the inmates
were in **** to their noses
and I said, “Pass…let’s move on to the last ”

And sure enough
the third room was comfy –
the inmates were up to their knees in ****
and each enjoying a cup of coffee
And I told the Red Master I could live with this
but then the Red Master screamed at the inmates there:
“ All Right, you pigs! Break Time over!
Back on your heads in your ****!”

4
And it was then I was shot back to Earth
and so whether Heaven or Hell
Neurosurgeon or Poet
you can be certain now
Heaven and Hell exist –
One for the Wise, one for the Fool
It’s your call, buddy -
Big Book or Big ****?

they keep missing this one
in all the TV and cinema versions
they make and re-make of Tarzan;
so it’s really my duty to set the record straight

Tarzan was running uninhibited
(that’s before Jane arrived)
and Jumbo the elephant looked at Tarzan
and looked him up and down
and Jumbo the elephant said to Tarzan:
*“That’s cute what you got dangling down there -
but can you pick peanuts with it?”

Two sparrows descended upon
food left atop a picnic table--
bread crumbs and
chicken wing bones
not picked bare yet.

And the birds ate the birds
with zeal and their familiar,
innocent sweetness
and I wondered if they knew
they were cannibals.

And if they knew,
I wondered
if they would care.

Though I am not
And despite the fact
That I may never be
My heart swells
With such joy
Each time you call me
Your wife.

And though we're not
Making love now
And though were far too young
I smile every time
You admit to thinking
About our child
Because no matter
The doubt the world has
Nor us
We always seem to see
A future
Together.

What delightful alchemy this
this metamorphosis of a dream
a condition like an apsiopesis
which assumes I will be back
I inhale the fragrance of this ink
and exhale it as wine
it gives a nice toast
to our love
soaring like a lammergeier
Well in the throes of passion,
it splinters into a flower
the omphalos of which
is a moment awake
beyond rest or relaxation
may we be together forever

_ Vijayalakshmi Harish
   24.11.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish