"bullocks" poems
In India pongal is the best festival
It is not a mere ritual
We celebrate it in January
It is very very customary
It lasts for three days
Bhogi,sankranti and kanuma are the days.
On the first day we have a holy bath
Thinking that it sets us on the right path
Early in the morning we sit around the bhogi fire
Thinking it is the demon Ravana’s pyre
We put on a new and attractive attire
Dreaming life is a joyful boat shire
Children make wreaths of cowdung
Throw them into the fire like a gold ring
The villages are full of colourful bullocks
We sing folk songs taking neem sticks
The bride groom leaves for the mother-in-law’s house
The bride waits for him wearing a new saree and a blouse
Father-in-law gives the groom a costly gift
Mother-in-law makes a sumptuous feast
Younger sister-in-law teases the groom
The bride and the groom confine to the room
Mother prepares delicious dishes and pickles
Father goes to the farm worshipping the sickles
On the last day we go to the temple fair
I hope I made the happy pongal very clear
Yours sincerely,
JVL NARASIMHA RAO
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
A rain cloud, I was
in one of my incarnations,
heavy and pregnant with water,
it was proud,
billowing, adorned with
lightening's golden thread,
it poured in torrents,
with roars of thunder,
then sped through the fields,
that became fertile,
farmers with their ploughs
and bullocks came out,
the fields were bright green
with dancing rice saplings
Some other time
I was an ecstatic bulbul,
mango blooms told me amorous tales,
I voiced each in snorous ghazals,
The rice fields were ripe,
musky scent was ******
Women came in waves
and harvested the rice,
their songs were on romance,
ardent love and parting
hearing the bulbul
they perfected their singing.
A long time ago
I was a goat's kid,
I sprang around and danced
in the harvested field,
the cloud wanted to pet me
but she was so far,
bulbl sung a special tune
for me for a while
Looking at the green grass
on the other side of the fence
I would think wistfully,
what life would bring.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
The fire knows nothing but burning,
we know breathing that way, naturally done for
our own sake.
We old still know sake and grant mean true immaterial things.
Sake and granted we take to mean
my good, your good, good sake grant me take me con
mentis sans carne
by golly.
Dada-esque wire spoke far writing ease
e everything e-literate e-mail
---
the boinin' in d'boozum, dat be da ting, da ting con sum in all ya'lifes.
be knowin' dat, be knowin' a-dam lie.
Jah know y'know, don' be sayin' no y'don'
Be happy. Jah know haps be hap'nin' allatime. *** sum, take wha's granted,
take all fo' free.
You got nothin' t'boin, nothin' to oin, be a bird brain seein' stars fo'
no. birds be sleepin' when stars be seen so birds consider nothin', sidereally.
Hmmm. Quit?
Walk away, say, I got nought to say I ought t' say.
No way.
Temporary tempt-test-u-us sitchee-ations,
suffer it so. It don' hurt t'say no f'now so
How'd that that shiny critter know my game? How'd it know,
I think
thisaway and it is gone, forever. (which has begun, btw)
-----
The biosphere is regaining consciousness, Capitan.
Shall we continue burning?
What's the bullocks count?
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
Less ‘ave a spot of fun, shall we?
Sumfin fun to do in ma spare time fo no particula reason,
An’ I like ta share it wif you.
Drop the T’s and pronounce yeh U’s like ew’s
Enunciation is key on heavy consonant words.
Forget practicality an be silly wif it.
Pretending fo a moment,
That there is a glob of peana butta,
On the ref of yeh mouf.
****** ell and bullocks only take it so far,
Yew must remain natural wif towne
But, simply mumble mimzy’s
Followed by ratulsnakes ‘n’ wota fawllls.
Tha best practice comes wif accenting ull day.
An than ull tha kids will think its ace!
Dowent get aggro, jus ease into it.
An fa ***** sake its Herb not erb.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
With your satiny hairs,
You amble without a normal foot.
But with a pristine look,
Your big eyes shines luminously.
Dear, Maybe people call you a handicap,
I call those bullocks a madcap.
Interestingly, what, I am a handicap mentally, here I reveal.
Everyday I fight inside the close door when night falls.
A few days ago your eyes have cried a lot,
Let me clear here, you are a daring person.
It gives me a reason to fight with his servants openly.
You are a bizarre, I don't know you Monica Sharma.
Though we did not shook our hands at all,
But whenever these eyes squints you,
A new story creates a History...
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
The beauty of evil is the good that transcends it.
We are not victims, we are survivors.
You are a canvas.
Personality paints your eyes red and your heart blue.
Nothing more than a mortal shell.
Bullocks.
Everything we adore is harbored in the backs of our eyes.
Blink.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC
Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake
the walls tasted like crème cheese icing
everywhere dripped chocolate rust
wheels and gears- pumping out bliss
the house would tick us to sleep
a quiet tock that snuck into our hearts
we beat together-our 3 tiered home and us
and we hung pictures of mixed historical value
the first time someone held our hands
the names of flowers we invented
and the towers twinned together- breathing in city air
Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake
The universe kissed our toes
In our rose petal beds
As we nibbled our marshmallow pillows
And greeted the cooler side with the grip of tiny fingers
We wore silly hats
And talked in accents no one could identify
We made our own curse words
That sounded more magical then rude
And we hung pictures of mixed historical meaning
Cartoons from before nickelodeon was bullocks
Our middle names in Braille
And the Kennedys on their wedding day
Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake
The home of chocolate fortitude
Where some days we wouldn’t turn on a light switch
And let the candles guide our imaginations
Down dark tunnels and secret gardens
There was never any hunger
Tears only came from happiness
We made capes out of our bed sheets
Chased each other under beds and hid in closets
Peeking out because being caught was our goal
And we hung pictures of mixed understanding
The 8 dirtiest jokes found in ancient art
That day when the sun felt like it would never stop playing with the moon
The day we stood still long enough to know the color of our eyes and the outline of our toes on wet grass
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 3:34 PM UTC
Why can’t blue be blue instead of signifying sadness, calm, the ocean, bla, bla, bla
A thorn among the roses is a thorn among the roses
Why should it be a misplaced identity or an unwelcomed companion?
And why the hell does the crow have such a bad entanglement
As a messenger of death
When a crow is a crow is a crow
But wait, you say
This is stuff of Poetry, is it not?
Ooooh Bullocks, Poetry!!
An apple is an apple and not the forbidden fruit of Eden!!
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 5:25 AM UTC
Such ordinary lives
Such ordinary paths
The Sandlers and Bullocks are all such you’s and me’s
Ordinary kisses with ordinary loves
Ordinary divorces from ordinary unloveds
Ordinary kids setting up ordinary traps
For ordinary folks who moved ordinarily too fast
Through their ordinary youths to get to their ordinary futures.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
My friend Ed said,
"we're pals
I'd rather we remain that way,"
I said, "I feel rejected now,"
He said," Bullocks,
It's better that way",
I said, *******
But yes, I know it's better."
It's too late now
I've fallen for my friend Ed.
His smile makes me want to drop my knickers
When he sings
I'm aroused
I'm lost in wild territory
Running with the wolves
Hungry
To taste you
Drink you
Touch you
Smell you
Lick you
Again.
Come back to suckle my breast's
Touch my skin
Kiss me
Explore me again.
He is my friend Ed
Who want's to be pals
because, " it's better that way,"
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Last train
what a pain
Someone sick on the platform,
Someone got no style or panache.
I watched them dash hell for leather and whether that made them sick I don't know, but I think they should go by bus, no fuss then, busses come when they want to and if they want to spew
let them.
It made me late
Only slightly though
and if they puke I don't
look,
that would be impolite.
I'll get home tonight at some time, put the kettle on and smoke a rhyme or just write a smoky line,
but it won't make me sick
make me pick on my scabs or grab a granny or bottle,
a glass of wine I could throttle right now.
This last train's a cow
full of bullocks and bullspit and
people are quite sick at people who puke out their innards while heading Westwards on a downward spiral.
I need antiviral
an
innoculate
to precipitate a
reversal of
fortune.
Nearly home now
Off the mad cow
and feeling
ill at ease.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
i brush my teeth;
gargle and spit it
towards the sky
if i close my left eye
and squint with the right
i can see our astrology
signs align
i feel you next to me,
nudging against my tumor,
relaxed i submerge myself
in Arabic
there is no pain here,
no past hurts to haunt
the rest of my days
on this earth
and so i bring you
in closer, more closer
than i have ever brought
anyone
and with that,
comes the almighty
fear of God
i pray that we love
each other like
we loved one another
centuries ago...
never mind the
bullocks.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 1:54 AM UTC
They must have ***** the size of bullocks
but sadly their brains are the size of peanuts,
you can't win them all.
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 12:25 AM UTC
Sometimes your
time may be bad
for dinner's Christmas
pizza.
Sometimes flying birds
may come down
to meet you after
your failure n exam.
Sometimes rushing bullocks
may return from
cultivating land to
fight with ox for sex.
Sometimes tops may not
move on palm
die due to rise
cost of palm oil.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:01 AM UTC