"signboard" poems
He rubbed his weary eyes...
What trickery could this be?
Was it a signboard draped in disguise
Or the reflection of light off a tree?
Seconds ticked as he drew closer.
The lady materialised to rule out prior suspicions.
His fingers wrestled over the rusty brake lever,
Wheels squealed their futile objections.
The lady wore a face he could barely see...
She had long tresses that bore an alluring fragrance.
Her beauty tipped the scales allowing him bravery,
Unafraid he asked, "Miss, may I be of assistance?"
Her voice seemed to ride the subtle night breeze,
Coating his ears like sugar laden candy.
Soft and demure... Yet laced with a hint of tease,
She had said, "I'm stranded in the dark as you can see..."
"What luck!", he thought, seizing the opportunity
He removed his sack to make space for her.
His heart raced being in the damsel's good company,
The lady slid herself onto the rack before they both rode together.
As he pedalled hard, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Her voice came again, a tender little whisper,
*"I live rather close... Not far off from here...
A little over the hill... Just over yonder..."*
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 5:59 AM UTC
The quirky signboard said it in bold
Welcome to the house of Sweet Fragrance
*Here your hair will be shaped in the finest mould
While you relax in blissful trance!*
I stopped by this name cute and smart
A hair losing shop called Sweet Fragrance
Tempted to go in though I needed no cut
Too impressed to keep a distance!
I stepped into a house with the finest smell
With the pretext to unburden my head of some hair
It was a Garden of Eden away from hell
A dreamy languor pervaded its air!
There wasn’t in the glasses a face to look
The place seemed a haven for the peacefully mute
I was offered a chair in the dimmest lit nook
To surrender myself to the forbidden fruit!
Time stopped blurred away my sight
I felt such bliss had no second chance
Knew why Adam embraced his plight
*Succumbed to Eve’s Sweet Fragrance!*
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
Total parrot care
Cried the signboard
In the narrow sleepy by-lane
I gave it a dreamy stare.
I have been too rare on this road
Coming this way was no need
But when I chanced upon that signboard
My search ended for parrot feed.
Is there anybody there?
I echoed de la mare
Found none at the counter
Not even the shopkeeper!
Dismayed I looked around
If some human semblance could be found
But fell nothing in my gaze
Other than a parrot in a cage!
Turning to leave I was stopped by a voice
*Find here sir a variety of choice
Not just parrot feed
Under one roof all that they need.*
Who is speaking I asked in awe
There wasn’t a human face I saw
But could tell it with certainty
There were eyes watching me.
*Don’t leave sir without the delicious pellet
Once you take it you’ve to come back
Serves well a parrot’s palate
The bird loves this crunchy snack.*
It now emerged who was playing the trick
I was hearing parrot speak
None other there not one human folk
The shop was run by parrot talk!
*I scampered out with one long hop
Disappeared the lane the parrot shop
I was tossing on my sweated bed
By this funny dream that rocked my head!*
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
Behind a speakeasy
in a ***** moonlit alley
silhouettes climb up a tired
and worn out stairway
vacancy signboard beneath
an incandescent light bulb
marks the nondescript entrance
for the nights commerce
Outside the window ledge
a billboard hums an electric tune
between the blinds neon light
sneaks into the room
casting shadows on a naked
landscape across the mattress
spread totally disinterested
pockmark flesh limply waiting
Clumsy hands fumble
to unzip stained denims
hobbling with unsteady steps
to the edge of the bed
a drunk smelling of cheap whiskey
and ***** smiles at me with
two rows of rotted stumps
my first customer of the night
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 6:48 PM UTC
I have worn a ring
Ever since I remember the first.
I woke upto a lit’le golden shine
On my li’lest finger.
I grew into a walkable,
And it got tighter.
Then they removed it
and gave me a diamond studded one on my 8th birthday.
I wore it on my index.
I grew into my teens
And it got tighter.
Then I got outta teens.
And it got tighter all the same.
Then a brown haired chap took pity on me
And proposed me.
With a ring.
A silver one.
I wore it on my ring finger.
Then it saw me for a long time.
And it got tighter.
And I separated direction from
The brown haired chap.
So, I dropped the ring
And whoosh it flew into the tracks
with the faintest bounce.
Then, I was a woman.
The ringless finger ached my periphery.
I thought of my diamond ring .
And I sold it next morning at the Jewellers.
I got a Platinum ring, after a lotta confused psychology to take the decision.
I felt a pauper signboard afar.
I wore it on my middle finger.
And, I smoked a cigarette
And I drank ***
With the platinum shining on my middle finger.
Then I took pity on a black eyed fellow
And slept with him in a drunken state.
Morning I woke up with my bright sneer dimming down.
My ring was gone.
The black eyed chap stole it.
My platinum ring.
I never wore a ring
Ever again.
I smoke the cigarette
And I drink the ***
With none a ring.
I will, Will to be buried without
Any of the Same.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:54 AM UTC
Lord Quirk lived alone
in his castle
full of stuffed animals
and dried creatures
and humans as such too
And when Salesman New-deals called
"Just the very thing I need, "
said Lord Quirk
and added Salesman New-deals
to his Dried Goods Collection
And now Lord Quirk's descendant
has a signboard outside the castle
that says in characters old but not faded:
*"Won't you come in
to view our collection
and be part of the experience?"*
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
I’ve got a signboard pinned to my chest.
It reads:
**“Beware of the door. Trespassers will be
versed and put in rhymes.”**
Ten-thousand volts of electricity for the man
who dare enter; an auction of body parts
is the central theme to my story.
I gave away my heart to the one with the easiest ways
and my mind for whom I could not find
my tongue. Every time my heart skips a beat
sirens wail into madness and lights start
rolling into the night. I wear barbed
wires as a wristwatch: telling me to
wake up whenever I have a sleepless night.
Put your ear to my chest and you’ll hear
clanking of bolts out of place and the death rustle
of a mechanical beast settling
into his bed for the long, long
night.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 2:13 AM UTC
*'In perfect corpse posture, he lies
supine, motionless,
on the broad sidewalk
hardly a space to practice a yoga pose.
The waterfall of evening sun
foaming on his face
in no way disturbs,
it would seem when one looks
through the car window.
When, such equanimity
of the yogi on the sidewalk
begins to puzzle
the discreet signboard,
leaning against the wall besides
the motionless man,
lets the cat out of the bag:
"Our bar is now open"*
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Suddenly the eastern cook grew quite excited,
he had spotted a shop with Chinese characters,
and chickens and ducks hanging behind a glass
to stimulate the hunger of those who might pass,
and a red and gold signboard with letters that said,
“Welcome - enter this place and be fed”.
The eastern cook cried, “Why not go in,
it’s time for lunch, let’s eat something.”
“Yes,” said George, “it’s a good idea,
and safe - they don't make hamburgers here!”
This restaurant was a noisy place,
with tables crowded and not much space
for waiters to carry their trays well laden
with assorted dim-sums and bowls of ramen,
and the clatter of people busily eating
with friends with whom they had a meeting
and chopsticks clicking and glasses clinking,
and background music and singers singing.
They all sat down at a table for ten,
and ordered lunch for their party of men,
and just one woman who said that she
didn’t eat much but that she would be
happy to try any stir-fried dish
as she was partial to greens and to fish.
from The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
A GIFT OF OLD AGE
If old age does a gift on me bestow
it would be just: silence
in my youngish and manhood years
I had exhausted every single sentence
erroneously borrowed from writers,
from professors, friends, the clergy,
leaders, politicians, loud-mouths,
fanatics and extremists ( I didn't know then)--an endless litany
and I discover much too late
truth is only a word thrown about
for the convenience of the speakers
the stronger their conviction, the louder they shout
as they have all the answers
' you don't know-- you out
there---it's about time you followed us
we'll rid you of every doubt'
how I detest slogans now
pontifications are the death of me
I am lost for words--silence I choose--
myself I blame for my past stupidity
soon, too soon I'll be walking
to life's terminus--near, so near-
with a tiny signboard ' finis'
I'll be quiet and calm --without a single doubt or fear.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
On my selling on a day in the blazing May
I was looking for a small place for a light bite
when I noticed through my heat dazed eyes
the signboard "Snack Bite".
Inside was the peaceful coolness of a suburb bylane
and I would have pretty soon dozed off
but for the strong smoke of spice, garlic and onion
that shut out every senses except hunger.
No menu card, sir, the waiter cut the silence,
*on our menu at this hour is only fish fingers,
all else sold out.*
No problem I said, I have been here for a light bite.
How many pieces come with a plate?
Ten, sir, superbly fried.
By ten minutes the steaming thing was before me
ten red crispy slices of fish fingers
and I immediately got into business
remembering what my ma used to say,
To a hungry mouth every food tastes fine
and so neat and fine the pieces looked
so artfully arranged on the plate like human fingers
I reflected on the pause having finished the fifth.
Human fingers? I froze in terror,
why didn't I notice
leftovers of crunched bones and nails
on my plate?
The only other man at the table, I heard
was ordering for another plate.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Visible but stuck, it could give direction
With the truth of its helplessness
Few discover their stagnancy
Fewer find a reason to change condition
That’s how we live each day
Acting outside what we say
Our mouth, pointing to the kingdom
Our lives, pulling away from real freedom
Choosing foolishness over wisdom
By walking in this evil world’s custom
There won’t be reward
If they came because of you
But if they came with you
So drive the train
Rather than be just a pointer
Like a signboard
- Omodunmiju David
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
...want M&M's right now!
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXIX)
Out where a fragile silence listens, pale
Sweet minutes on their honour as suspense
Hangs like the rick'ty signboard of what hence
Shall cough ere giving voice, yes, in that frail
Calm rain does not quite tiptoe through t'avail,
The voiceless naught is keenly for intents
Half harking to what we don't hear from thence
In all our haste to be, I search for bail.
Old pools of water, silver-faced, don't stir,
And crickets gently fiddle; cars pass through,
Truck sans a care, weeds look too yellow to
Be ransomed, and the eaves drip. Oh, what were
We thinking, really? Death knocks 'gain in tour
Yet we feign not to notice. Ah, what's new?
30Sep18a
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
One..
When everyone gets sorrow, everyone does not know to cry,
Some of the heart breaks like a glass piece!
But do not water the eyes!
The only God who knows how to mourn, how deep is the sorrow!
I'm in the body,
So little bodice
So insulted
So much boring
So disrespectful
How do I end up with my self-esteem. I am "Boss wow"!
But yes, yours
All the illusions
Heart breaks no more
Eyes are heavy!
Humiliation, ignorance
And bothersome
Being stored in the bag.
Eyes repeatedly pointing out
Say, how much more
Neglect, how much more
Left?
.. Two..
InshaAllah
I'll return one day
All humiliated humiliation!
You just keep on looking,
As i am
To you
I looked.
All on the face
Say "no"
Do not hold hands
Do not sit beside
Give me repeated holes
Think of me stupid
Every slap
By each
Me in diffusion
Destroy!
I will take all the money by throwing my face
Inshaallah one day
I will return the whole!
No one in your mouth
Do not talk
Because the canals cut itself
You brought crocodile!
You may also have trouble thinking that
"I can be so bad!"
.. Three..
Inshallah
If you're dead,
In your corpse
Do not kick!
My expensive shoes
Misers is absolutely
Do not tolerate!
Stay away from touching
I'm your body
Be far away
I do not see!
You have to be insulted in the coffin.
I will pretend to be
No more than you
Do not i know
In no time
We are known
I did not.
I will hate it!
The rest of the past
You will remember;
One group in the grave
Will not throw it
Do you know
Where I am
Do not drop.
Get the opportunity
Your impotent coffin
Fire will burn!
.. Four..
Inshallah
You die
One day after a decade
The grape will grow in the grave,
Your grave
No one is cared about,
Erase almost
The high stone of the grave.
Only on the silence signboard
Your vague
Name white
Painted.
You me
Will come to see you
come I am to you, I Will not see
Maybe thinking
Your grave
I came to Ziarat......
You will breathe comfortably
Maybe I think about me
Your penalties in Doa (Pray)
Negatives can be minor.
I smile mystery laughing,
Your grave soil
Seeing breaks.
I will stand by the grave
Pretend to be jealous,
Slowly open the zipper
Walking around the grave,
I will **** on the grave. And
I'll give it to you
Hanker.
..Five..
You will see
But nothing is happening
Power to say
No you
Your words in the world
Nobody listens
No longer
Even yours
The grave angels do not!
Remember, me
Ignore said
Your peace in the grave
Do not be there!
Ha ha ha!
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 3:47 AM UTC
Lives have become a Game.
Everyone runs around for a moment of Fame.
The only desire, a glowing signboard with their Name.
Every one is playing, A child,old or someone Lame.
Once Wild were liked , Now new cool is Tame.
The only difference left is in what we play.
Waiting for their chance everyone Waylay.
Greed so high that they would even slay.
As if, hearts are made of clay.
Never content,whether Black & white or Fifty shades of grey.
Life goes on , So does Games.
Some use Ladders to reach Their aim.
Others use snakes Without any shame.
Winner's rise up , world is theirs they claim.
Losers are left on side with nothing to reclaim.
stronger or weaker, Who is to Blame?
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
why pluck
the jasmine
at my window...
what will I tell
the breeze,
that go follow
its withering
among idols
framed pictures
incense fumes
severed plucked
presented wreath
homage to the gods,
or will I sway the
bees, a telepathic
signboard painted
of dour directions,
none shall heed
even as petals
pucker away
toothless mouths
nibbling
nothingness...
but there!
within a clawed
green hold
a clasped
delicate
white inch of
a cold moon
jasmine,
at my
window...
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
You're a work of art,
You're a stream of moving liquid,
You're a light flickering in the dark,
You're a thunderstorm growling in the rain.
You're a painted canvas,
You're a gleaming neon signboard,
You're a puff of smoke filling her lungs,
You're a teardrop flooding her cheek on a cold night.
You're a verse from her poetry,
You're a definition to all her favorite lyrics,
You're a human version of her lucky sweater,
You're a permanent piece that lives in her.
You're a piece of night sky,
You're a reminder of everything she wanted,
You're a pillar of strength keeping her intact,
You're a perfect definition of all she wants and needs.
You're a gift of God,
You're a lump that fills her throat,
You're a smile that curves when she looks into your eyes,
You're a thread she's holding on to.
You,
You fill her with hope.
You,
You turn her dreams into reality.
You,
You are love.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Waking up is always a burden to her
For she never wanted the life she is living now
They say that life has so many choices to offer
But she was left with only one choice
-to accept what was left to her
Dreaming is supposed to be free,
But now, it became a luxury
Only for those who can afford it
And those who can't, it's a fantasy
-illusion, delusional
*Ridicule me, laugh at me, tease me, bully me
It will be your last chance
Call me simpleton, call me poor, call me ugly
It will be your last chance
You won't be able to do it again*
She had finally decided to end it all
She was just waiting for a cue to start the fall
And that day, wandering around the city
A signboard caught her attention
Today's Advice: HANG IN THERE ;)
A faint smile then crosses her lips
It was the cue she was waiting for
Later that night
Literally, she followed the advice
The only witness is the moon
She hangs herself in her room
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
APOCALYPSE
Civilisation will sleep
in time's graveyard
there's too much hatred
bad blood that would split
every artery and vein asunder
when the human heart
could feel no more
when reason has been
swept away by the soulless indifferent wind
and nights are but the ghosts
of anguish and perdition
when dreams are hellish nightmares
and sleep is but a trail
of torturous afflictions
when peace has bidden farewell
and hopes have sunk
into abysmal oblivion
what is left
and what is there to be lived for?
now in this grimmest hour
darker than the silent grave
rises only spectre's head
ugly, ominous , relentless and revengeful
this then is the apocalypse -
the world has lost its sight
splendour and beauty
and in every corner of earth
a signboard will be found
bearing the name : Dead
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
Driving......
felt adventures
stopped....... started
walking.....
found a new street
yet to be named
a new real estate
only two houses
went near
found a signboard
on Gates..
House1, " Beware of dog"
Yes, he is an introvert and pet lover
House2, "Welcome"
Yess, he is an extrovert and good host
but
an amazing
a fence between
the house has a wooden door
How come???
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC