December 12, 2013

Happily Divorced.


Inspired by an American sitcom of the same name. 

 


I should’ve known our union was against nature’s scheme
The day you baked me brownies lathered in whipped cream
Why shouldn’t men love to cook? The feminist in me cried
And turned her head the other way, the day your hair you dyed
A ghastly shade called ‘diva red’, the ugliest I’ve seen
“But it’s so pretty! -I mean bold”, in soprano you squeaked
Which reminded me of Margarine, my ageing spinster aunt
Who shot her beau with the gun with which he used to hunt

I should’ve known when my friends exchanged looks wide-eyed
The day I introduced you all, the day you wore that tie
With Marlon Brando’s brooding face printed all over it
The way you kept exclaiming, “Damn, that guy was ripped!”
You couldn’t pass a mirror without pausing to look
A quarter of an hour to style your hair it took
When people raised their eyebrows, “He’s metrosexual!” I said
“Oh well”, they cried, unconvinced, “As long as he’s good in bed.”

I should’ve known something was off the day we hit the sack
I’d often catch you pouting at the glass ceiling we had
But you were a good partner, I’ll give you that my dear
Even though you wrinkle your nose at the smell of beer
I remember when I found on you a smudge of red lipstick
You swore it was just a bruise from a flying hockey stick
But nothing beats my discovery of your secret underwear
With little hearts drawn on them – not just one, but a pair!

And this is why, my darling, I’m throwing the towel in
But that shouldn’t undermine how happy with you I’ve been
For while you aren’t exactly what they call an ideal husband
You’ve stuck by me through thick and thin and been a stellar friend
I’ll wait for you to find your way out of that famous closet
And prepare to be your wingman, so we can double date!
Imagine what fun we’ll have, all the parties we can host
To tell our friends and family that we’re happily divorced.

December 9, 2013

The Sound of Silence


  

 Silence fills the night
      Like the piercing squeal of a child’s delight,
Or the lilting notes of a lullaby.
A silence so voluptuous and rich
Like the glossy sheen of ebony ink,
A plush feather dancing across the page
As a silent orchestra plays –
Or the noiseless Pandemonium
Where a speechless Satan reigns.

More silent still, like the voiceless hills
  That drown the river’s unheard roar
In mute mockery.
  Can you hear it? The breathless whisper
  That amplifies to my unheeding ears
 A deafening cacophony?

I cannot fathom
The flapping of a butterfly’s wings
In vain pursuit of the choicest flower,
A cobra’s hiss as it wields the power
To blot out life forever.
But you, who have heard the autumn leaves
Change colour and crumple
To death’s cold touch, cannot
The silence see.

I can; I have watched it creep noiselessly
To my brick-red balcony and knock
On my window pane, waiting to be let in.
I have felt silence close in stealthily
As I averted my eyes from an unknown world
Whose music is lost on me.

The storm clouds groan with the weight of rain
Too distant to be heard.
The stars twinkle in soft sympathy,
Glaring at the moon who beams
 With the raucous laughter of wordless mischief.
Silence is the night.