Little jimmy was curious and nosy
His cheeks were fat and rosy
He always had to find out why
One way or another or he would cry

This made his mother angry
If it was YOUR things he broke you would agree
It was a hot summer day and little jimmy was lounging on the floor
His brother watched the dog, the dog watched jimmy and jimmy stared at the door

Through the door his mother came grunting in
When his mother grunted, there was always things she would bring
She told his brother to get the rest of the bags from the car
On his last trip, he brought in a box black as tar

What could this little box be? Could it move? where would it go?
Jimmy just had to know
His mother told Jimmy that the radio was not a toy
If Jimmy touched it he would be a bad boy

Jimmy wanted so desperately to know what made the radio talk
He failed many times till he learned to walk
Now he could go as he please
He could track down the radio with ease.

He found the lradio on the counter in the kitchen
Using his stool he climbed up to listen
He thought there must be little people singing in there
He needed a way to get them out here

He opened the top but still they would no show
Irritated and impatient he started to grow
He had to force them out
to get what he sought

But fate always has a twist
With just a flick of the wrist
A loud bang filled the house
He knew what he did deserved no applause

His brother ran in fearing what harm he brought to himself
All he saw was the radio removed from the shelf
Disappointed and sad jimmy sang his own song

Twig by twig,
living a hollow,
dreaming a nest for the nestlings...
Chirpy screeching voices,
like lullaby to her ears
Awakening her sole purpose
A mother as well as a father figure
To protect
Nothing is too much
She'd feed herself to the tiger if she must
...
Breaking of a new dawn
another day to break
Until her nestlings can leave her nest
But never...
ever...
even so...
They are her own little royals,
forever ...
the only rulers of her life...

Mom,
I still have a pen in my hand
But I am unable to wield it,
Because
My perpetual tears spoil the page,
I try to write on.
I've not been able to write you,
A poem,
That you might love;
Random lines,
That you might know I'm out there,
Somewhere;
Or even a word.
I haven't even got a paper,
Spoiled with ink,
That I be admonished for.
I know,I left you sad,
But,Mom, know that
I slayed the cowards,who
In God's curse clad,
Took away your lovely lad,
With that lunch box in hand
You prepared with that fatigued body of yours,
I couldn't devour.
(I'm sorry for that too)
I'm there,
Mom,
You told me tales of.

The glistening sun sets,
leaving a silhouette of hanging trees,
a decoration on pink faded walls.
Humming cicadas and chirping crickets,
play in a symphony of the night.
Bike rides and park games in darkness,
softball games in the bright field lights.
Each crack of the ball and bat create a chaos of teammate screams.
Lost every game, but won each time.
A refreshing water runs on slippery rocks,
swimming among fish and ducks,
Soaking bodies run home,
Baggy shirts, gym shorts,
Adults and children mix in a weekly party,
Beer bottle caps and soda cans clink to the ground.
Love and laughter surrounds a crackling open fire,
Warming bodies and hearts.
Little feet race to where the sidewalk ends,
the grass grows thick.
It is here where teams are picked and knees are scarred.
12am games are played,
cans are kicked, ghosts roam graveyards, and flags are captured.
Waiting to go home, hours and hours of waiting
Hours of talking of all different ages,
Country music and guitar melodies play throughout the street,
a lullaby of our childhood.
Television reruns at 2am entertain tired minds,
Couch and floor beds of blanket forts,
Carried up to bed to sleep in comfort at 4am, the chirping birds, already wishing a good morning to most, but goodnight to this home.
The raccoons rattle and the woodpeckers poke in a serenade to sleep,
In a neighborhood of blaring nights and silent mornings.
Each week, the time flew by.

Mama warned me about the Demons under my bed and the ones that speak nasty things in her head
she told me about the ones I'd find on the street that walk around with 2 eyes and a cold heart beat,
But never once did one tell me that the girl with the
icy blue eyes
could be so sweet.
she just needed help standing on her own two feet
Because
  not
     all
        demons
               are
                  mean.

I wonder why I think of nothing when I am travelling...
I hear voices of people, but no sounds of my own.
No whisper, breath or heartbeat sounds,
I only dream..A dream made out of icy clouds.
And there is, I hear voice of a little girl

Nan! Nan!
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?
Banana peel
Daad!
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Doctor
Doctor who?
You said it...

She kept making these silly jokes and even I smiled as I heard them...
She kept asking her parents and nan to answer her 'knock in the door'.
She reminded me of someone,
As she kept annoying them more.
I blocked out for quite a while staring somewhere far,
She reminded me of someone...
I guess once I was just like her...
I was just like that girl you heard,
I was this, little, silly kid
Making jokes, laughing all day long.
Blurry face with no care at all.

What about now? Would you like to know?
I am buried now, buried in routine...
Every day's the same, passing by so fast
Yesterday was spring,
And today is gone...

What about now? You don't want to know...
You are growing old, missing out youth
Yesterday was warm, but today is snow
Every year's the same,
It fades out slow....