O Stomach!

O stomach! The things I do for you
Couldn’t be any more stranger, too!

There’s no moment in the day
When I don’t heed what you say.
I give you ice cream, chocolates,
And puddings piled up in plates.

But you say these do not suffice,
So, I eat muffins, cakes, and pies,
Lemon tarts and cheesecakes,
Pancakes and bowls of souffles.

You then rumble and ask for more,
And I eat candies by the score,
Almond cookies and sweet buns,
And yet, you yell you aren’t done!

You want slices of bread and jam,
Custard with jelly and baked flan,
Sweet milkshakes with berries,
Caramelized and sugary toffees.

I just keep gobbling and gobbling
Till there’s no space left for filling.
Brownies, doughnuts, and fudge-
I chomp them all without a fuss!

And now tell me, why do you spasm
After I’ve filled your abysmal chasm?
I have to eat bland food that’s boiled
And spoon upon spoon of castor oil!

O stomach! The things I do for you
Couldn’t be any more stranger, too!

The Light In My Head

I have a light in my head.
It turns on when I go to bed.
And in this light I can see
Everything that’s not meant to be.
I see things that didn’t go right
Except that they are magnified.
Things I said or didn’t say
Or did or didn’t do during the day
And the possible repercussions
Are all blown out of proportions.
One thing leads to another,
And all these are such a bother!
At a time when I should be sleeping,
I lie awake, brooding and thinking.
Oh! what a nervous wreck am I!
Mulling over all the ifs and whys.
Then, the morning sees me awake
With a pumpkin-like strange face.
No book, no talk, no spell, no potion
Has cured me of this condition.
I could be wrong, and I could be right,
But this adds to my deplorable plight!
And so, the night fills me with dread,
For I have a light in my head.

The Silly Cat

There once was a silly black cat.
Who thought he could fly like a bat.
He jumped up so high
To soar in the sky,
But fell to the floor with a “splat!”

PS: This poem is a Limerick.

Alas!

There once was a witch on a broom.
Who took off in search of a groom.
She got lost in a blizzard.
And was caught by a wizard,
Who turned her into a mushroom!

PS: This poem is a Limerick

The Portrait

‘Twas the portrait that did him in.
The night was cloudy and stormy.
And, darkness shrouded the cottage
Where he worked as a servant.

But, his heart was even darker,
For, in reality, he was a burglar.
As he stuffed his bag with silver,
Lightning flashed with thunder.

It was at that moment he saw it!
Her portrait above the mantelpiece.
She seemed to stare straight at him
With the piercing eyes of the living.

As the light crackled in the window,
He saw her smile with an “I know.”
Across the skies, the thunder rolled,
As he started sweating in that cold.

His bag grew heavier with treasure,
And he tried to escape from her.
“I know! I know!” Her shrieks echoed,
As he made a mad dash for the door!

The next morning, the police arrived.
Near the door steps, a man had died.
The medical report said, “Cardiac Arrest.”
‘Twas the fourth, in the haunted cottage.

To Be or Not to Be … Afraid!!!

Of all the things I fear the most,
This one tops the list.
No, it’s not thunder or ghosts
Or dark bottomless pits.

The very sight of it is menacing
And triggers me to wail,
Not to mention all the suffering
That afterwards prevails.

And it’s not like I can escape
When it is unleashed.
I know that I should be brave,
Yet I quiver like a leaf.

It takes less than a minute
For it to attack and leave,
And I’d rather run away from it,
Than face it tearfully.

It may be small and shimmery,
But it’s as painful as hell.
The singular cause of my misery
Is the doctor’s needle, my friends!

The Dictionary and the Thesaurus

The dictionary and thesaurus got married,
And their wedded life lasted exactly for a day.
Yes, theirs was a story fraught with tragedy,
When that morning started in the usual way.

The thesaurus asked the dictionary what she wanted,
As a gift, and a pink saree, was what she requested.
Now, the thesaurus went excitedly to the market,
And soon returned with a saree the color of peaches.

“I said pink,” the dictionary said, shaking her head.
And so, the thesaurus found himself in the shop again.
He selected a dress that was a shade like orchids,
And, came home, sure that the right decision, he’d made.

“Was I not clear?” The dictionary said incredulously.
“Pink,” she said as she pushed the silky dress away.
Flummoxed, the thesaurus drove to the merchant hurriedly,
And exchanged the purchase for another like champagne.

“Pink! I want pink!” The dictionary yelled furiously.
“Which one?” The thesaurus screamed back at her.
“Blush, coral, flamingo, magenta, salmon or candy?!”
“You should know, pink!” She shrieked in raging anger.

And, this was how their little love story ended abruptly
With the thesaurus racing outside to save himself,
As she picked up his “gift” and threw it at him violently.
Even now, they sit separately, sulking, on the library shelf.

Overthought

So I thought aloud a thought
That differed from your thoughts.
Then I thought some more thoughts
About what you would’ve thought.

This led to a pile-up of thoughts –
The what-ifs and whatnots thoughts,
And I ended up with more thoughts
That I should not have thought.

I know you may not have thought
Thoughts that I thought you’d thought,
Yet, my mind dreads the thought –
You may have thought those thoughts.

If anyone has any possible thoughts
Of how I can stop these thoughts,
Then tell me so without a thought
And to try them, I’ll give it a thought.

Chinese Whispers

Ah! The vagaries of youth –
A game of Chinese Whispers, too
Is a chance to profess, “I love you.”
Or, could it be too good to be true?

His plan was to say the words,
Whisper them in the ear of another,
And for that one to whisper to another,
Till it reached the ears of his love.

He: “I love you so much, it hurts.”
Friend 1:”I shoved you, so does it hurt.”
Friend 2: I shopped for you a red skirt.”
She: I should have you got a shirt.”

O Cupid! Your arrow strayed again!
The message was lost in the game!
What transpired of him and his secret?
Like the game, we’ll never really know it.

A Little Nonsense

If I was You and you were I,
And I lent you some money,
Do you owe me, or I owe You?
And, that would be so funny.
If you’d return what you took,
Then, I’d give it back to You.
And so, it would not be true
For me to say, “Ae! I Owe You!”
So, all is now settled, friends,
As, now, I owe You nothing.
And as this li’l nonsense ends,
I hope it leaves you laughing.

The Wager

‘Twas the summer season
In the great Indian plains.
The heat was unforgiving
In every town and village.

On one such lazy afternoon
In the village of Nenaanoo,
Little Jon and his pals, too
Wondered what to do.

It was too hot to play ball
Or Chupa chupi or Pithoo
Or Gilli Danda or Kho kho
Or Five Stones or Lattoo.

Soon, they started arguing
About who was more clever.
And in the heat of the moment,
The lads agreed to a wager.

The target was a mango tree
Owned by the uppity Mr. Wick.
It was guarded by ol’ Kenie
Who carried a wooden stick.

The tree was heavily laden
With mangoes ripe and golden
Whoever picked five of them
Would be the cleverest one.

And so they crept to the tree.
In silence, the race began.
They heard ol’ Kenie snoring
And soon climbed up a branch.

But ol’ Kenie wasn’t asleep,
He woke up with a loud snort.
And he started chasing them,
So the plan they had to abort.

Down the tree, they all leapt
And scrambled to run away.
But they all stumbled and fell,
As they got in each other’s way.

And so it was as the Sun set,
They returned black and blue.
For ol’ Kenie had caught them
And given them a thrashing, too.

That’s how the story ended
Of Little Jon and his friends.
They never laid a wager again
In the heat of the moment.