Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Almost Alive

Unbutton my unforgiving straitjacket,
let my flesh sense momentary release.

Knife a neat vertical slash,
on my sunless, smooth bosom.

Ballooned up rivers of red might burst, flow,
free at last, free from me, vital again.

Grapple with the mask strapped to my soul,
rip it away, or let me die, knowing, I was alive.

This is Poem 8 for Robert Lee Brewer's April Poem-A-Day Challenge 2012.

The prompt is to write a poem using these five words in any order: slash button mask strap balloon

However hard I try, the dark side does take over sometimes. And the gory words flow unbridled.

Cynic Season

is war's aftermath, scars and lines galore.
Oh one half's fine, stood the test of time,
the other,
always turned just so, an illusion of sharpness,
a smile,
that's halfway a laugh, still needs getting used to.
feigned light for the shutterbug, smile, not convincing.

Eyes, that call out to him, words unnecessary,
a face,
that warms his nether places at night,
cyber titillation is passe, or so he says.
taunt him, make him ache to seal with his,
pre-pubescent stubble notwithstanding.

Sexy, he said.

This is Poem 7 for Robert Lee Brewer's April Poem-A-Day Challenge 2012. 

The prompt for this poem is a "Season" poem

This one's self-explanatory. 

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

That Kitchen Cupboard

A black and white image,
three quaint shelves,
stacked bottles, plastic and glass.
Masalas, condiments, and chewing gum.
Jars labelled cloves, pepper and cinnamon.
Two turned heads, eyes staring, hearts pondering,
supermarket visits, hand in hand,
a house lived in, by man, and man;
arguments over a favorite brand,
noodles and flour, bought for two.
one hand and spoon, yet fed mouths, two.
A single bed, that still fits two.

Three quaint kitchen shelves, in black and white;
The promise of an irreverent romance,
but, with who?
If only I knew.

The prompt for this poem is : Two or more people interacting without speaking.

This is a poem born out of the aching melancholy that took hold on gazing at the afore-described image. 

Saturday, April 7, 2012

100% Brilliant

He's the patriarch of this tale,
he, of the ex-neurotic wife,
and the current Latina bombshell,
whose love is never at strife;
and the wise little butterball.

She, of the Colombian upbringing,
of the big bosom, and bigger heart,
God-fearing mass rat murderer,
mistress of many mispronunciations.
the wind in our back, not the spit on our faces.

He, the ornithophobic attorney at large,
the one of the sharp wit, and flaming red hair,
Do it yourself disaster, gay, out, and proud,
on an Asian paediatric adventure, of sorts,
with that bumbling sleep-clown-er, looming large.

He, the flaming gay stereotype, or so you thought,
Of the singing voice and the clowning face,
the throwing arm and the too joyful tops;
with a tendency to laugh at baby curses,
and the real live example of a real man who cries.

He, cool dad is his thang, he's ridiculicious,
the comedic foil, to his hyper better half.
Gadget freak, real estate whiz, he'll fix that step;
The kind of dad, everyone would want.
And oh yeah, he is not a pervert.

She, I kept for last, for in her I see me,
hears everything, quadrennially spontaneous,
perfectionism overload, hard taskmaster,
suspect past, auto-tuned orgasmic wonder,
A solid wall of dependability, for the rest to lean on.

She, the fashionista school girl with her heart just right,
She, the intellectual wonder, just found joy in dolls,
He, the "special" one, yet on occasions many, of sharp insight,
He, the romantic, the poet, the man far ahead of his cherubic face,
And she, hopefully not the only underachieving Asian we'll ever know.

The prompt for this poem is : A 100% Poem

This one's a tribute to that most brilliant of TV shows, Modern Family.

Just YOU.

Long before you were wife, mother, breadwinner,
you must have been just YOU.
Days, when you too dreamed in technicolor.
When you were allowed to be just, YOU.

And then came he.
Through him, me.

The prompt for this poem is : Something before my time.

This one's for my mom.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

In Retrospect

The apology isn't for:

having imagined that generous subcutaneous fat,
could merge with slight bone and sinew,
and form a being, substantial at last,
that hole could now be, whole.

the asinine belief in the instant ever after,
two minds tethered in brilliant askew,
the reflected image of want, too vivid,
the original impalpable, mired by the mirage.

the indulgence that encouraged the craving,
for a father figure, comrade of intellect,
just stopping short of a carnal lover; a bright speck
of protest on a solitary self-sufficient kismet.

The apology is only for:

the singular shortness of sight,
of the heavy burden that was wantonly imposed,
on a man-child, unsure, battling the brutes within,
needy, yet, unlearned in the art of giving back.

The prompt for this poem is : An Apologetic/Unapologetic Poem

This one looks back on a failed friendship with nothing but calm objectivity.

Form and Rhyme: Free Verse (though there are some unplanned rhymes, here and there..)

Monday, April 2, 2012

A miracle that might not be.

There is an inexplicable sweet agony,
the uncertainty of dreams that may manifest;
of the unrelenting trickery of time,
and the impotency of bureaucracy.
Of a miracle that might not be,
of caramel brown hands holding yellowish white,
of eager ears ingesting sounds familiar, yet foreign,
the tantalizing prospect of rising with the sun.
Bursting red strolley, favorable exchange rate,
international debit card, indigenous keepsake,
fat pussy cats, fishless meals, an almost family,
point and shoot, practiced phrases, all in the head.
Months give way to weeks, to days of pregnant moments,
mind that apparates away from the mundane, to rise,
along with that rising sun, a thousand times over,
rehearsing a miracle, that might not be.

That's done, an agony-filled write-up, as I sit in fervent prayer for the aforesaid miracle. This is Poem 2 for Robert Lee Brewer's April Poem-A-Day Challenge 2012

The prompt for this poem is : A visitor poem

The poem captures my inner turmoil at the moment, of a miracle that might not be.

Form and Rhyme: Free Verse

Sunday, April 1, 2012

- FYI -

I don't regret to bring to your kind attention,
that you, gullible lady and sir, worthy of mention,
are the fortuitous victims of a guile April day prank.
No. I haven't yet walked the proverbial marital plank.

It is my pleasure to inform that, of you, I made a fool,
and all through the day, as you fell, I kept my cool.
As I revel in the fruition of my false marital communique,
I regret to inform, I will be apathetic to any adverse critique.

Yes, it is another case of the unwed boy who cried out "wolf",
with lies, treachery and masquerade, did he, you, engulf.
But, let it be known, that I seek not the fruit of marital bliss,
Singledom suits me just fine, nothing at all, seems amiss.

It is only for the blissful purpose of comedic poetry, did I mock,
on my binary mending wall, this business of pretend wedlock.
I shall kiss and make up, and seek atonement in poetic verse,
with that in mind, you have my kind permission now, to disperse.

April PAD 2012 Ahoy!!!!

 This is Poem 1 for Robert Lee Brewer's April Poem-A-Day Challenge 2012, my second PAD., which is conducted to celebrate National Poetry Writing Month, April. I will be writing a poem every day for the rest of this month, based on prompts that I receive from Robert, and you can follow my progress here on my blog, or in my Facebook notes, if you are in my friend list.

The prompt for this poem is : Communication Poem

The background: When the clock struck 12 midnight on March 31, 2012, I updated my relationship status to "engaged" on Facebook. Throughout the day April 1, "likes", comments and congratulatory messages poured in. Finally, at night, this was my "communication" to those that I pulled a prank on.

Form : Quatrain 

Rhyme Scheme: AABB 

Here's wishing a wonderful PAD to everyone who is taking part! See you on the other side! And please sign Oprah's No Phone Zone pledge, the link to which is there on your right. "That text can wait!!!"