Padma Shri 2009 for Arts

Art today be ash,
And artists, trash.
They art sick,
Their art sicker.

Limerick # 12

[One of my entries for Saarang Online Creative Writing Contest. The topic: 'Connect these three not-so-obvious ideas/themes into one single piece -- Schadenfreude, Shoes, Shame.']

The Price of Oil

The world wide web laughed itself dead
After this journalist stood up and said:
'Shameless moron W!
This is gonna trouble you'
And flung his shoes at the president's head.

One Day in a London Flat...

'Good morning, sir,
Wake up!
Your coffee's in the
Tea cup!'

'Dash it, Jeeves,
It's just eight!
Until I myself rise
Just spectate!'

'Very good, sir,
I'd been remiss.
In passing, let me
But mention this:

Your aunt Mrs Travers said
She'd again call.
And an angry Mrs Gregson
Is in the hall.'

Limerick # 11

Ode To Srinand Fishy Rao

There was a young man named Fishy,
Who in matters of tobacco was pushy.
Better give him a smoke,
Else your neck he'll choke;
Your only escape is to become a she.

(This limerick was written for him on his birthday. According to him, it was the best b'day present he received. Cheers to his sense of humour!)

Limerick # 10

There was a botanist who to her rank disbelief,
Learnt that her beau was of communist belief.
She yelled, 'You make me go... RED!'
'Is that so? In that case,' he said,
'Marry me and I shall turn over a new... LEAF!'

Parthian Shot

'Yes, goodbye!' I retorted in T9. 'I too
Am ecstatic that we wont have to SMS
Each other ever again'. I viewed my
Message in the Sent Items by
Force of habit and switched off the
Instrument. Sat back and cursed her
Profusely. 'Don't cry for her, don't', I
Told myself and put my face out the
Window of the bus. 'Oh damn', I said
Aloud a moment later. Switched
My mobile phone on again, typed up a
Message furiously and sent it and
Deleted her number from the contacts
List. Without informing me my
Fingers took me to the Sent Items
Folder. Before I could look away my
Eyes read the final message: '*won't'.

Sleepless in Chennai

It's raining cats and dogs here,
With lightning and loud thunder.
True, it inspires awe and fear,
But my sleep does it plunder!

O darling, my dear sugarcane juice,
Is it raining pets at your place too?
If so, let's hum a tune you choose,
And leap like a kangaroo.

On the Advent of Teenage

Beyond any doubt
There came about
In my gastronomical
range
An astronomical
change

Limerick Latte -- # 7, 8 and 9

As sms-ed to annoy a friend.

[Note: Lab = Labrador -- her hypocorism; AJX504 -- mine.]

There was a young Lab from Trichy
Who was understandably bitchy.
When called a sow
By AJX504
She also proved to be a bit touchy.

Twenty minutes of poetic exercise,
The next five -- of wild surmise:
'Was that a good limerick?
Will it flop or will it click?'
And all she remarks is 'Lol. Nice.'

There was a young girl from Sir Sivaswamy Kalalaya
When asked 'உங்க school நல்லாருக்கா நல்லாலயா ',
She fumed and said,
'You're gonna be dead
But choose பன்னிக்கோ என் பல்லாலயா இந்த கல்லாலயா'

Limerick # 6

He is All Over My Universe

He has heavier-hearted brethren,
He ensures balloons aren't barren
And stars aren't invisible.
He is fulfilled and noble!
But so are Ne, Ar, Kr, Xe and Rn.

In the Eye of the Beholder

'Love at first sight' is a phrase today
That spells more than I could say.
A dimple on a damsel sends X up, up and away,
Whereas Y and Z become her shoulders' prey.
Some chaps fall for missies with hair all astray,
While others prefer it combed in neat array,
While some others swoon at a braided display.
Inference of aesthetics does not rules obey:
If one bloke deems a lass' frame just OK,
The next man sends her an anon bouquet.
I know of boys dreaming through work and play
About girls you'd goggle at only if you were gay.
But no one could top my pal called Jay,
Who's wired up in a fashion I can't convey;
His romantic tale is far, far from a cliché,
For he fell in love with a maiden's X-ray...

Love's Price

There was a certain tomboy who fell in love,
Who knew not how her lad's heart to move,
And to which end her every thought strove.

Two courses to take, she judged, to win his awe:
Either improve her looks, go coy, play the ewe
Till he comes to realize that love does he owe,

Or kidnap the boy, stuff him up in a damp hut,
Starve him, and threaten to turn him inside out
Unless on a love pact his signature did he put.

Her upbringing and pride ruled out the first case;
But her swift hands ruled in his abduction with ease,
By landing on his mid-skull a beautiful ceramic vase.

But when she gathered that the Superintendent of Police
Was father to her object of interest, Passion ran out juice
And was replaced by Panic; time it was to pay love's price.

Love's price was exorbitant, and cost her all her dough:
Till the Superintendent felt he had enough,
Sack after overflowing sack was sent through!

Limerick # 05

Edward the Unintentional

Her farm life gave Astronomy no role,
Thus is good Sue today a loveless soul:
She split up with Ed
When he fondly said,
"You attract me like a black hole".

Need Poetry Rhyme?

I composed this poem on a rainy evening.
My friends said: "This is not poetry at all!"
Dad, too, wasn't the least to be convinced:
"Bad piece of work, my son. Improve..."
And mother was particularly scathing:
"Bland and pointless. Drop it in the bin."
There was no hope in profs' words either:
"Care to hear my say? This'z pure crap."
"But why?" I cried, "How's this not poetry?"
"That is quite evident", they all replied,
"A poem has a rhyme scheme, young man.
ABAB, AABB, ABBA, ABABB -- you name it.
Show us the rhymers in your - er - poem."
"So that was yer charge, eh?" said an irate I.
"Then 'tisn't my fault, sirs and ma'ms, that
When a poem stares you in the face, ye
Can't tell it is one. Bad 'nough ye didn't
Grant my piece a poetry status. Worse --
All ye pundits found it self-satisfying to
Call it a worthless frill and brand me a fake.
Worst -- ye all failed to notice that the
First words in each pair of lines rhyme!"

Limerick # 04

There was a doped hostess who went high,
For no earthly reason she started to cry --
She beat her chest,
And kissed a guest,
And they said she was as irrational as π.

Rotten Rime

Buds mayn't blossom, snakes mayn't slither,
Joeys mayn't jump, but divorcees may date!
Falcons mayn't fly, bestfriends mayn't bother,
Bradmen mayn't bat, but all may alliterate!

Limerick # 03

The Nightboat Crew Club

The strict fourteen-member ship,
Elected to cancel his membership,
When helmsman John,
With all the lights on,
Pinched one female member's hip.

[ Note that lines 01, 02 & 05 are more than rhymers ;) ]

Oh Revered Judges

[The title was specified in the contest. Personally, I don't quite like this piece.]

Oh my revered judge, revered judge,
Plastered to your seat sans a budge,
Watching kiddish lawyers via your glasses --
How could you just listen to those asses?
How could you sit there tapping the gavel,
While the holy courtroom echoes with drivel?
Why did you acquit the former convict,
Whom you knew was the one who did it,
Just because his attorney the @$$hole
Had struck upon the law's loophole?
Just a single nut in your head loose,
Could send a guiltless guy to noose.
M'Lord! Justice is in the heart of Man,
Secondary is the verdict of your clan.
I gather you've mastered the law,
But not without too many a flaw!

Quackpot

'Doctor, doctor, I'm very ill'
'Patient, patient, pop a pill.
And now you try to keep your still,
For what you see here is your bill.'

Limerick # 02

Boarded the bus a wily pick-pocket,
And didn't care to purchase a ticket.
He took the conductor's purse,
Then for better or worse,
Jumped off the bus and kicked the bucket.

Ubiquity

दीदी, यह हवा kidhar है?

वो hither है और thither है

Limerick # 01

Once they let out a caged okapi,
Who hence turned terribly happy.
He excreted his goo
Throughout the zoo
And they put him in the dinner recipe.

I Die

[Written years ere, in the wake of learning of stellar deaths]

 

My heart aches, as all my hydrogens,
Tucked deep under my skin, are
Now exhausted, and I have nothing
To do but swell with whatever
Superficial hydrolium is left in me.
                                           I have no sympathy for Mercury,
                                           For he is a jerk, trying to win
                                           The Orbital Race and unfortunately
                                           Does win each time with a foolish
                                           Mind of triumph, the puny fellow.
Chewing hin away, I turn my eye
On Venus, the hot-tempered girl. She,
The silver medalist forever and so the
Most furious and hottest, challenges me,
Says she would eat me instead!
                                           That, I permit not, and suck her
                                           Into one of my infinite nostrils.
                                           The tertiary victor was patient till
                                           Now, and at my first signs of
                                           Approach, shrieks, 'Wait a minute!'
She might as well say, 'Wait a
Millenium!' Proceeds she, 'Have my
Offspring not worshipped you? Have
They ever inflicted a crumb of damage
Upon you? Have you not a heart?'
                                           'My dear blue baby, it is that my
                                           Heart shrinks and there is but
                                           Nothing to curb myself from gobbling
                                           The first three of my kids, sadly,
                                           Including you, my priceless jewel.'
She is not deterred. 'I considered you
Almighty. It was you who embedded
Life in me, you who nurtured it and
Brought it up. Sans you, I would've
Been just as lifeless as my siblings.
                                           But it is now your wish to swallow
                                           Me, to vapourize me.' 'It is not my
                                           Wish.' 'You lie! O you are not
                                           Grateful. My best child, Man, has
                                           Paid you innumerable respects.
He, your grandson, my grandest son,
Has attempted to understand you, for
Which he poked out telescopes in all
Directions like cannons. He had, you
Should remember, extended your lifespan.
                                          He has dumped hydrogen in you from
                                          Your neighbour Alpha, as though he
                                          Were Robin Hood. He has loved you,
                                          Cared for you, and how do you return it?
                                          You give his womb an undeserving death.'
'My dear child, he made me live
Longer for his own selfish need.
He wanted more time afore he could
Evacuate all my nine children,
Before I turn red and gianty.
                                         Ah, my great daughter, you are a 
                                         True mother. You choke of radiation,
                                         Your lands've dipped thro' fusion blasts,
                                         Yet you defend the rogue who has
                                         Deserted you and killed his brothers.
Why die of radioactive suffering,
Self-combusting, and synthetic volcanoes,
Armageddons and comets and endure
Agony till your deathbed? Why not
Get mercy-killed in an instant?'
                                         And thus I cast forth my tongue,
                                         Swish about her and recoil it
                                         Deep back into me. The other six 
                                         Weep fraternally; my fourth child
                                         Glares, angry and as red as I.

Comment On Dr Flea's Weblog

I dunno why you with this crap clog
Your otherwise unmatchable blog.
'Clap, if from me you are a mile,
Respond, if you are here, with a smile;'
If that goo is what you call poetry,
I'll better hang myself from the next tree.
One expects greater stuff
From a literary buff
Like you, you mad maundering moron!
Surely you can write better, come on!
Your other poems were really nice--
Especially those packed with lies...
And do me a favour by not commenting
On my blog with poems rhymingly revolting.
For how many times have I told thee
That poetry is not my cup of tea?
As far as my opinion goes,
The best writing form is prose.
Because sometimes poetry loses sense
When the poet's brain is intense
In groping for rhyming words and word-wit,
Resulting in utterly meaningless bullshit.
OK, man, me got to put on an outdoor dress,
Unpark the cycle and go to the mess.
And as you know, dude,
I didn't mean to be rude.
I criticize only for your better.
Alright, I'll chat with you later.

Twinkling Sun

What would befall us if
The sun starts twinkling?
Seconds of sharp illumination,
Alternated by deep darknesses;
People using twinkling lamps
That glow during the dark seconds
And switch off at sunlit moments.
Eventually sleep belonging
To daytime, and Schooling
And Job to the even night.
Birds having hell as though
An eclipse recurs too oft.
Nursery rhymes shifting to
'Twinkle twinkle biggy sun,
How I wonder where you run,
Up above the world so high,
Like a tubelight in the sky.'
In spite of these I am sure,
Somewhere, now, light years away,
Peculiar heads are looking up
At the night sky to behold
Our Sun, a dot among dots,
Twinkle via atmospheric strata...

Escaped -- On The Spot

[The first two lines were given in the contest]

The hundred and second dalmation.
Was stranded alone in the station,
With fake ink-spots on his skin,
Waiting for his bitchfriend, lips a-grin.
But what came wasn't just the train.
'Twas accompanied by ink-washing rain!
Train and rain hissing, the wheels screeched,
And out came Cruella, her hair all bleached!
She spotted him, but the rain had de-spotted him!
And the dog-catchress left, muttering 'It's not him'...