"kebabs" poems
You're trouble, you're toil.
Yes, trouble and toil.
With you I think I'll bring to the boil.
A pinch of salt and a teaspoon of oil
but not too much, your taste it'll spoil.
I'll take off your beard.
To eat that would be weird.
But gristle that makes your knees
into crackling . . .
. . . oh yes please.
With mint sauce on each cheek,
two kebabs that are seekh.
Not keen on the chin
so I hope you don't mind,
that goes straight in the bin.
Chop, chew, swallow and digest.
Can you guess which part
of you I like best?
It's your nose that I grate
all around the edge of my plate
and because I've asked "Please"
that you try not to sneeze.
It makes a much better garnish
than parmesan cheese.
Savoury poetry by Kaydee.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
THE NEW YEAR TIGER HAS GRACED US WITH HIS PRESENCE
YA SEE GRAWL GOES THE BIG TIGER
AS WE ARE ABOUT TO CELEBRATE A GREAT NEW YEARS FEAST
YA SEE YOU MIGHT BE SITTING AT HOME
WITH YA KEBABS AND SNAGS AND STEAKS AND ****
BUT I CAN TELL YOU ONE THING
THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO COOK FOR THE NEW YEAR TIGER
CAUSE BEING A TIGER HE LIKES IT RAW
YEAH ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER TONIGHT
ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER, YEAH
ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER TONIGHT
AND WE’LL PARTY RIGHT TILL MIDNIGHT
MIDNIGHT, THE ONE MIDNIGHT WHEN HE DROP THE BALL, HAVE FIREWORKS DISPLAYS
ALL OVER THE PLACE, AND HAVE A TIGER GROWL
EXPLAINING, HE IS THE NEW YEAR TIGER
AND COMING TO GRAB ALL THE GRUB AND *****
THAN HE CAN POKE A STICK AT
NEW YEAR TIGER NEW YEAR TIGER NEW YEAR TIGER
WHAT A WAY TO END THE YEAR, OH NO, WAY
THE HAPPY GO LUCKY CAT, NEW YEAR TIGER
PARTIES ALL THROUGH THE LAND
YA SEE WE COUNT DOWN WITH HIM
RIGHT DOWN FROM TOP TO BOTTOM OH YEAH
AND THE MEN ASKED THE NEW YEAR TIGER FOR
A NICE COLD CAN OF BEER
DRINK IT DOWN, BURP IT OUT
MAKE THE NEW YEAR FUN, COME UP AND DOWN
MR HAPPY CHICKS SAID TO ME
THE NEW YEAR TIGER IS THE COOLEST ***** THAT YOU’LL EVER SEE
THE NEW YEAR TIGER GROWLS FOR A GOOD TIME
AND GROWLS FOR A BAD TIME
HE GROWLS AT ANYTIME, TO TICKLE YA FANCY
LIKE MY MATE NANCY, DO A DANCEY
LIKE YOUR MATE CLANCY, WHO WAS THE TIGER THEY CROSSED WITH A LION
TO CALL IT A TIGON,
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
FROM THE NEW YEAR TIGER TO YOU, GROOOOOWWWL, HAPPY NEW YEAR
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
The Zebra smiles at the Lion
Who is wondering when he gets fed
The Rhino looks across at the Zebra
and this is what he said.....
"Why are you grinning my friend
especially at the old Lion over there"
The Zebra replied that he was in a good mood
and to be judged just is not being fair.
"I was not judging just a little bemused
and wondering why the good mood todtay
he saw no reason for it - he wanted some mud
a nice dollop of sticky mud to have a **** good play.
But he knew life was not a bowl of cherries
not that cherries are his overall delight
No rains meant no mud and certainly n o smiles
not unless he put up one hell of a **** fight
The Zebra hated mud could not see the attraction
cherries gave him wind too and at both ends
What a mess I'd be in he thought he started to think
Looking over at the Lion - what a strange signal he sends
The Lion was drooling over Zebra kebabs and Rhino stew
a little carrot and parsley he thought would be nice
drenched in gravy - his eyeballs spun round - they noticed
and ran off fast they dd not need telling twice.
Blast thought the Lion wheres my dinner gone
has the place gone mad and have I gone wild
This time the Rhino understood the Zebra
and this time they both stood and smiled
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
I pull the curtains over tight so the
sticky light will not let in the morning.
I miss waking up in Europe with the
strange European light coming in pouring
in the narrow windows of Dutch Tower
houses or busy Berlin apartment
streets with kebabs cooking and kids crying
the stillness of frosty Dublin suburbs
in the winters and the bite of the air
on bare cheeks and knuckles and the eerie
sound of invisible birds and clock towers belling on Sundays resonating in the crystal air.
And I start thinking about all the things I never did which is sometimes worse than thinking about all the things I have done
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 6:18 AM UTC
You could tell
by Mamie’s face
she was sick
of shish kebabs
in fact it seemed
that the whole Moroccan holiday
was kind of getting
to her sensibilities
from the standing
on the two brick toilets
to the shish kebab
food misadventure
let’s go walk
on the beach
she said
before I throw up
with this crap
and so you walked
with her down through
the path to the beach
the moon and stars
above in a black
patchwork sky
the sound of the sea
rushing in and out
and the voices
of the others
getting less
and less
and she said
looking up at the sky
isn’t scary that sky
why is it scary?
you asked
it’s so vast
like it goes on forever
she said
I think Pascal found
the immensity
of the night sky
disturbing
you said
Pascal?
Is he on the coach?
Is he on the tour?
she asked
no he was a mathematician
and physicist and inventor
and Christian philosopher
in the 17th century
oh right
she said
boring ****
come on let’s get
on the beach
and lay down
and stare
at the sky
and stars
and that bright moon
and then we can snuggle
up close
and we’ll see
what comes
and she pulled you
onto the beach
and the damp sand
eased itself
between your toes
and the smell of the sea
hit you
and the sounds
and the wind
from off the sea’s shoulder
and she pulled you
down on the beach
beside her
and you lay back
and looked up
and the vast sky
seemed to press down
on you both
and she laughed
and said
it kind of makes
you seem small
and insignificant
doesn’t it
she said
you felt her hand
in yours
a soft pulse
of her being
right there
like a small beeping drum
and she turned
and looked at you
and smiled
and her smile was captured
by the moon’s glow
and you said
we need to remember
this moment
this being here
this newness of being
and she laughed
and said
don’t get too deep on me
and she leaned in
close to you
and kissed you
and her tongue
entered you
and the whole sky
seemed to witness
the moment
seemed to want
to embrace the kiss
the bright humanness
in her moonlit face.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:42 AM UTC
Shish kebabs
shish kebabs
that's all they have
Miriam said
as she sat
at the bar
of the base camp
in Morocco
I sat smoking
and drinking a Bacardi
they do salads
I said
in long French loaves
I have those
they’re healthier
and quite filling
she looked down
her nose
can't just have salad
she said
must have meat
of some kind
well don't look at me
I’m too skinny
for a decent meal
she laughed
and sat
closer to me
at the bar
can you get me a drink?
sure what you having?
same as you
ok
Bacardi and coke it is
so I asked
the bar keep
for her drink
and he went off
to get it
a cigarette hanging
from his lower lip
what did you think
of the belly dancer
last night?
I asked
not my thing
she said
but I see you liked it
yes it was a good experience
heard about them
but never
seen one before
last night
I said
the bar keep
brought her drink
and I paid him
he went off
and I said
how did you sleep?
not good
I had Moaning Minnie
with me
and she moaned
because I came in
the tent at 3am
what time
do you call this?
she moaned
some of us
are trying to sleep
she moaned on
for ages after
I think she was moaning still
in her dreams
I suppose you slept?
she said
yes I crept in my tent
and fell asleep over
my suitcase
I was too **** tired
to move it
and the ex-army guy
was zeroed
lucky you
not really
I would rather
have had you there
than him
snoring like some bear
what makes you think
I’d sleep with you?
you did the other night
after the beach party
she sipped her drink
and looked
at the menu card
that was different
she said
yes it was
I said
we went in your tent
and Moaning Minnie
came in
and turfed me out
Miriam smiled
if she'd come
five minutes earlier
she'd have got
an eyeful
yes that
would have been
a bundle of laughs
Miriam ordered
a salad roll
and sipped
her Bacardi and coke
I sipped mine
and enjoyed my smoke.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Step One: Write down on a piece of lined paper that living is a-okay.
Step Two: Tell yourself that Step One is malarkey but realistic.
Step Three: Make a campfire and have some sweet shish kebabs with strawberries, marshmallows, and bananas.
Step Four: Burn the stick when you finish. (It'll be more satisfying.)
Step Five: Watch five or six episodes of your favorite show and regret every second of it.
Step Six: Learn a bunch of useless facts about a specific animal and relentlessly tell them to your family or friends. ( Or even a stranger if you are feeling dangerous.)
Step Seven: Jump/get throw into a cold pool and as you flail around feel the goosebumps on your skin and the weightlessness of your bones.
Step Eight: Throw a party, and clean up the mess the next morning.
Step Nine: Sit in front of a desk with pen in hand.
Step Ten: Repeat Step One and skip Step Two.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
Miryam stands beside
two Arabs
and a camel
to be photographed.
Baruch presses
the shutter
of the camera
and the scene
is captured.
She pays
the two young men
and they walk off
with the camel
talking in
their own tongue.
She adjusts the bikini top.
Brauch puts away the camera.
Someone said
they expect to be paid,
she says.
Why not,
Baruch says,
watching her fiddle
with her bikini bottom,
her fine behind.
The Moroccan beach
is deserted, except
for the departing men
and camel further
along the beach.
She complains of the heat,
fingers her fuzzy hair,
stares at Baruch,
scratches her nose,
gives a Monroe pose,
hands on hips.
Take me like this,
she says.
He obliges.
He shutters the camera,
his eyes capture,
stores away her image,
in more ways
than one.
She talks of his drinking
into the small hours
in that Tangier's
night club
the guide took them to,
the belly dancer,
the snake charmer.
On the way back
to the camp
in the back
of the truck
with the others,
he remembers,
the kissing,
the embracing,
stirring his pecker.
She talks
of the early morning sky,
the smell of kebabs,
her feeling heady,
how she thought
he'd come to her tent.
Too tired,
he says,
besides I had to think
of your reputation.
Others would know.
I'm not a nun,
she says,
getting me stirred up
and then leaving to stew.
They walk hand in hand
along the beach,
the tide coming in,
touching their feet.
She talks of her parents,
medical professionals,
the boy she had a crush on
who went off
with someone else.
Baruch feels her pulsing
along the wrist,
his fingers holding there.
She talks of the other evening
when they came down there
to escape the noisy party
at the camp, the dancing,
the music, the wine.
He recalls the darkness,
the deep tuffs of grass
before the beach
was reached,
she and him,
kissing, embracing,
moonlight shining,
stars like scattered
sparkling diamonds.
No one missed us,
she says,
no one knew
about me and you.
He remembers
the echo of music
over head,
the gentle breeze,
distant voices,
her murmurings,
sound of sea
upon the beach,
both feeling
and touching,
giving pleasure,
each to each.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC
The music from the base camp
a few miles from Tangiers
could still be heard
from the beach
where you
and Mamie
lay looking out
at he sea and moon
she spoke
of romantic things
her parents
her job
her hopes
you listened
looked at her there
her eyes capturing
moonlight
her hair
her lips moving words
her hands
about your waist
yours on her back
and thigh
some one laughed
from the base camp
more cheering
clapping
music coming
and going in waves
caught by a slight wind
Mamie became silent
and kissed you
her lips on yours
pressing on
her tongue entering
her hands over you
she closed her eyes
sea sound
wind touching skin
voices from the base camp
a guitar sound
voices singing
she **********
(what was left
to undress)
you moving in
smell of sea
and scent
taste on lips
and tongue
gin and shish kebabs
darkness closing in
moonlight and stars
and her kisses
moving to your neck
and cheek
and you sensing
her warmth
her nearness
skin on skin
tough grass
by beach sands
voice calling
laughter
Mamie wordless
just sounds
and breath
and you feeling
her flesh
the fingers moving
sea waves
coming in
shush of the sea
passions high
distant sounds
guitar and laughter
and singing
riding the waves
you and she
and the god almighty
rough moving sea.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 4:41 AM UTC
Mid way through my kebab last night
You would not have guessed what had caught my sight
A diamond coin that stood out like my thumb
After hitting it with a hammer while DIY for my Mum
It was not the ordinary type
A side portrait of a reptilian *****
It was circular
But it wasn't shiny
It looked *****
But it wasn't grimy
It gave me the feeling of fools
Gold
But with the reassurances of a diamond that hadn't been
Sold
I took it home
I took it home
I swear I took it home!
"Must be with the fairies dear,They'l know"
"You can knock on there little door the next time you go
*** the quicker you shut up the less time you'l be out in the Snow"
Fine
Condemn me
But when I find it
You'l love me
If you don't believe me
You can't trust me
Don't see it now
You don't know me
Adiós I'm
Gone
Into the snow I'l
Run
To the kebab house I'l
Go
By the tall pavements under mounds of snow
where the fairies live and the diamonds do grow
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
He gave me tulips
But I wanted roses
He bought me golden ring
But I wished for a diamond
He took me to the beaches
But I preferred the malls
He suggested the movies
But I loved my cosy home
He played football
But I loved the indoor games..
He read only newspapers
But I took all novels to bed
He ate rice and curry and kebabs
But I adored Chinese, Indian ..
in fact all types of food..
He hated vegetables...
Woo... but I adored salads..
He loved his comfort zone
But I loved the adventures...
Between night and day...
Between North and South...
Between someone like me
and someone like you..
Could we ever ever fit in between?
Mad... Off he went to his country...
and left me all alone to ponder...
of how.. of why.. of will... of what...
This opposite attract ...
Love and hate...
hate and Love....
Searching for just a tiny bit of similarity...
so this love could last till eternity...
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
A dog, a cat, and tiny fluffy mouse
Are learning Spanish in their English house
Since they are going to the Southern Spain
They need to train their little stupid brain
The dog says: “My name is el perro grande
I love the singer Ariana Grande
But I hate cats and cats I eat them all
May they be big, may they be very small”
The cat says: “My name is el gato *****
I’m learning Spanish, it makes me alegro
But I hate mice and mice I eat them all
May they be big, may they be very small”
The fluffy mouse says: “I am el ratón
I love some queso and I love jamón
But most of all I love them cats and dogs
In Turkish kebabs and in big hotdogs”
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
Static still void slowly
Reveals through blurred
Lines and smeared paints
The figure of love or some-
Thing familiar enough. I sit
Suspended between two
Languages, indebted to
Different philosophies, and
At any given time I find
Teeth loosed from my mouth
As they are ripped out; sour
Taste of an omen ever
Present on my taste buds,
Ever scraping my knee
Caps as I fall to them
In some rapture, I bleed
My youth on dusk bathed
Blacktop of the school
Yard. I see towering womanly
Love, a monument to shake
Foundation, almost completely
Out of view, piercing overcast
Skies, yet not taking any
Clouds with it. I sit on ornate
Carpets of kebabs & half
Filled tea cups, stomach
Deep in some obscure
Fear of my desires. The dog
That loves me most of all
Is never allowed inside
The house. He sits valiantly
Outside, chained to a
Watermelon tree. Heavy
Heavy things all around me,
All things light and
Soft, even in sleep stasis
Feel ever as ever
Out of reach; beyond even
The scope of my dreams.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 9:50 PM UTC
We were once well acquainted
with the wee small hours
adept at navigating neon jungles
and the deeps of kitchen philosophies
entwined with kebabs and illicit frissons,
in vino veritas conspiracies
that took weeks to unpick and apologise for
but passed
Now, if seen, those hours hold different snags,
surrounding plants are far less exotic
but familiar brambles cut deep,
immutable truths roar
when the ***** doesn’t do the talking
and morning burrs not so easily dislodged
by a full English and a million teas
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 2:47 AM UTC
Heavy bearing the day in the city of distress,
getting back to my place, in my head there's a mess,
tough to go to sleep, so I stick to my flask,
close up a rizla and take care of my skunk.
Every one racing up - for their personal clap-clap,
running through busy streets with no time to ghasp,
pale and invisible - modern day ghost.
City of kebabs vs beans on toast.
Sunshine's not much more than a shadow from the past,
people puking on toga on a late night bus,
need the medicine - to stop living in a rush,
in this massive brain-washing our life's running past.
I remember the food, I remember the taste,
I remember the beach and I wanna reframe,
I remember the nature, I'm afraid I'll forget,
I remember my life but there's no time for that.
---
9-to-5 ghospel, first-world rap, call it that,
blues for who's got answers, money for the rich ****
I've no real complain, but it rains over my reason,
living in the city that's got only one season.
I need clearing up, fresh air from this prison,
needa breath something that don't smell like poison,
needa look outside at the end of the day,
and know that there is something beyond the grey.
Been staring for hours at an off-licence shelf,
browsing for nothing, maybe looking for myself,
lobotomised by the lifeless lights,
the only noise: the cars outside.
Nothing and everything - just floating around
a party on a boat, a rave underground,
the late night workers, the drop of a pound,
every night is the longest, every day passes by.
Lot of money goes wasted but nothing to buy,
This city is the woman that I'll never betray.
This city commands, you shut up and obey.
This city is the white, the black and the grey.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
Ah, those popular wishes of
giving the fat a trim
Beauty is now the
monopoly of the slim!
Sinuous and slender
The hourglass figure
The thinner, the better.
Dieting and slimming
down tricks
of course selling like hot
cakes
Tis a pity, she can't eat to
her heart's content and
desire
for rounded figures they
no longer admire.
But as long as
scrumptious samosas
keep frying in pans
and delicious pizzas
keep baking in 'em' ovens
it'd be hard to keep the
****** calorie count
or to live in fear of the
expanding waistline
mount.
Ah, those mouth-
watering deep-fried
kebabs
are entirely to blame for
my yo-yo dieting!
Gosh to cut down on
cheese and butter slab
is one tough way to get
rid of body flab.
This war against weight
is weighing upon her
mind,
instead of being simply
chubby and straight
We gotta maintain teen
contours and curves we
find!
You do know this is a
war you've got to be
winning.
It's those extra pounds
and not the war you
have to be losing.
Or the other skinny
lasses will be smirking,
grinning.
Ah, but all young ladies
must as well beware:
Dragoness Anorexia's
engulfing lair
or how her crony Bulimia
too can ensnare!
So pals better be about ill-
health more cautious
rather than being overly
so weight-conscious. :)
You can be loved despite your plump weight
I've seen many a curvy plus size woman
admired and adored by her soulmate.
So dears don't overeat or starve yourself
You don't have to be a tiny elfin fairy or elf.
Oct 26, 2022
Oct 26, 2022 at 7:59 AM UTC
Perhaps the day is waning
Maybe corpses in their graves are
Wriggling
With the worms
And in turn
Maybe gods are laughing
I don't know, or care
Perhaps they’re up on high
Maybe they’re just high
Giggling
With their cronies
And ambrosia
Flows like rivers
Perhaps it flows like rivers
Through their fingers
Perhaps their fingers are the rivers -
They are gods after all
And they smoke joints in the park
And they get kebabs at 2 AM
And they get kicked out of bars
And they do it all again
Until their words slur
And they do it all again
And whiskey runs like water
And laughter runs like water
This is a litany, a prayer
A toast, blessing, laughter
This is us giving a homeless person 10 bucks and our last tinnie
Just because we can
This is us waving at occupied taxi cabs and night buses
This is us singing hallelujahs
This is us making guns out of fingers
This is us laughing at
Those poor souls who are too embarrassed to laugh
This is us wasted in a graveyard, saluting all the names
Claiming that we’ll never die
‘Cos we’re gods here, we walk on and run on this town.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
Whatever is that urge, that unthoughtful splurge, to annihilate every last thought of that day
to drink to kingdom come, conversations with anyone, and spend all that you have been paid
what ungodly flicker of thought, has you drinking that last drop that you bought
until the sun rises, awake on a bench, lessons that really cannot be taught
Rewind that human clock, until a time when all was once well
hindsight on a wrong word said, tripped in conversation, drink brings up its show and tell
that marriage that you could have had, now stalked each day on Facebook
sent them a drunk friend request, regrets in the morning, crazy thoughts that overtook
I love you man, a Tesco ban, for stealing ***** after the midnight hour of twelve
we laughed and sang, kebabs and dips, only here once so what the hell
the morning after, 12 cans and draught ale, anything that doesn’t touch the sides
your head is thumping, hair of the dog is calling, Round 2 of this stupid drunken ride
But at what point do we put the brakes on, man’s liver this wasn’t built for, the older the less wiser
you’ve tried the lagers, you’ve tried the ciders, lets knock it on the head, time for the Tizer
for the greyer the hair the less you can bare, as our bodies are not getting any younger
now I love to be merry, but it’s a weight I can’t carry, as drink is a thing I can’t do any longer
Drunk
JJB
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
We met
in the heat of the discotheque
they played the sixties
all night long
afterwards
I jumped the queue for kebabs
and you had Shish,
Later still,
the hesitation before a kiss
frightened I'd miss the moment
but never
did
and confirmation
of a further assignation
at the discotheque
where we met
next Saturday night
feels like
a hundred year wait
until we get back on the
dance floor
and gyrate once more
to the beat
I can still feel the heat
of your lips.
It's not wishing on a star
that has brought me this far
it's the red vauxhall viva
my fathers old car
she
sits
under the hanging dice,
I think
our names on the windscreen
would look rather nice
she
says
no
and I go along with her.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 1:14 AM UTC
Party time in the club
Enjoying one selves every day
Loud music playing in the corner
Close to the bar so people can get ******
Then a man came up to the other man and said he was a loser and that man gave him
An almighty wollop
Over the head and he started
To fall down
He went to the dentist to fix up his teeth
And after that he went to see
Damien leith
His music was cool
And everyone danced
And other people headed to
The lounges for a bit of romance
He drank a vb followed by a XXXX
And lied down on the lounge
Waiting for a bit of ***
We see 25 chicken kebabs
On the kart outside
I think the man running it
Went inside
To get more ingredients
To make them happy
The crowd said come on
Be very snappy
Cream sitting on the lounge
Mark sitting there having a bit of a winge
Not good not bad not great
But not horrible
You see the homeless
Are waiting for their meal
All you care about is
Drinking beer and then spew
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 6:48 AM UTC
don't get comfortable
they're going to line us up and
use us all for target practise
to
get their eye in and as we're dying
they'll tie us to a barbecue and
skewer us into kebabs.
Eyes
in the mortuary and on the slabs
keeping tabs on dead men and
their valuables
for it's waste not want not
he wants what we've got
and they've got the
time on their side
and they make omissions
set up commissions
give out concessions but
cede ****** all.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC
"These days you are not at home, Somu,
The rooms seem blackened like a dying dumb ghost,
dead and deaf like an ageless planet, you see.
The walls breathe silence,
like flowers which bend with the rain,
And, I twist and age with time like grapes of wrath.
Dear somu, I saw you in the photo, on Facebook dear boy,
To be honest you have become fat, like your mother when she was six,
Eat less cheese and burgers and cream, to fix these things,
Try veggies and salads to make you look thin.
I am storing up some money, this year,
To send you some sweets,
During puja, we had fried chicken and fish kebabs and rolls,
I made it as you liked it, a bit saucy with corn flour and chickpeas and all,
Next time when you come, I would make it again"
Read the letter,
Signed, Your grandma Mini.
Somu, as known as Somnath at his college, MIT to be honest you see.
A good student and an economist to be soon,
Somu is told to be the young Stiglitz,
Who gets a bit sentimental at certain gloomy afternoons.
But this letter came to him last Monday, at work,
He couldn't read it properly as being busy is the way to look more and a bit more, tough and sharp.
And as he came home today at nine,
Like whiskey and lemon and contradictions which never seem to rhyme-
came another Telephone at around ten,
Informing the youngster about the death of one of his grandparents.
"This is Baba, Your Mini is no more,
Today at six, we found her collapsed at and over the toilet floor,
Come home as soon as you can..."
And He was Still holding the letter,
helplessly within the shivering thrills of his cold and goofy tired hands.
It was 11 at night and he was reading the letter once more,
He was all but telling to himself-"this must be a dream to be sure..."
He was thinking about so many things at a pace,
And he felt about the world that he brought his Mini some disgrace.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 3:45 PM UTC