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JJ Inda Dec 2018
he wears his cap to one side,
with style,
earbuds provide a tune
while he walks excitedly
between lanes of cars.
he is animated,
waving his arms,
mouthing the words to songs,
-- the purpose is to sell,
he has soda,
chocolate
and other sugary snacks.
whenever I see him I smile;
but,I never carry cash.
---yesterday I had a dollar on me,
still,
I just smiled
and waited for the light to change.
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
I’m the hot dog man!
x3
I put my sausage on your roll !
I put my sausage in your roll !
x2
Yeh!
I can go all night long;
Singing this crazy song,
Put my sausage on your roll,
I’ll put my sausage in your roll,
I’ll be your hot dog man,
You can be the hot dog stand,
I’ll put my onions on your roll,
Put my mustard in your hole.
Yeh!
I’ll be your jelly!
x3
I put my jelly on your roll !
I put my jelly in your roll !
x2
Yeh!
I can go all night long;
Singing this crazy song,
Put my jelly on your roll,
I’ll put my jelly in your roll,
I’ll be your jelly,
You can be my sweet confection Jenny,
I’ll put my sugar on your roll,
Put my cream in your hole.

I’m the hot dog man !
I’ll be your jelly !
I’m the hot dog man !
I’ll be your jelly !
Jenny !
Mucky food !
Äŧül Aug 2014
As I move on the streets of Mangalore city on the west seafront,
It is an afternoon and the sun is starkly overhead,
Burning, roasting in the hot-dry sky of May.

While en route the beach I passed from a really silent street,
Then I pass from the side of the Rosario Cathedral,
The only person I notice was a young vendor.

The vendor is a little girl who looked determined to empty her stock,
I peered into her basket and was pleased to see in it,
Even today I believe she sits there by the street.

Sitting in the rain or in the harsh, merciless sun she prays to the God,
Just back to her the church apparently has some priority line to Him,
She bribes Him a beautiful sea shell or two if He sends some buyers...

Though I do not need any sea shells, but I still go and spare a look,
I choose a pair of green sea shells and pay her for it,
Because she sells the sea shells by the street side.
I have been to Mangalore, but this poem is partly a product of imagination.
Mangalore city is a port on the western coast of India in the southern state of Karnataka.

My HP Poem #663
©Atul Kaushal

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