Poetry speaks

Poetry Speaks Confessions of a Born Spectator One infant grows up and becomes a jockey, Another plays basketball or hockey, This one the prize ring hates to enter That one becomes a tackle or center, I am just glad as glad can be That I am not them, that they are not me. With all my heart I do admire Athletes who sweat for fun or hire, Who take the field in gaudy pomp, And maim each other as they romp, My limp and bashful spirit feeds On other people’s heroic deeds. Now A runs ninety yards to score, B knocks the champion to the floor, Cracking vertebrae and spines, Lashes his steed across the line, You’d think my ego it would please To swap positions with one of these. Well, ego it might be pleased enough, But zealous athletes play so rough They do not ever in their dealings Consider one another’s feelings. I’m glad that when my struggle begins ‘Twixt prudence and ego, prudence wins. When swollen eye meets gnarled fist When snaps the knee, and cr...

Poetry Speaks Once Upon A Time Once upon a time, son They used to laugh with their hearts And laugh with their eyes: But now they only laugh with their teeth While their ice-block-cold eyes Search behind my shadow. There was a time indeed They used to shake hands with their hearts But that’s gone, son Now they shake hands without hearts While their left hands search My empty pockets. “Feel at home!”, “Come again”: They say, and when I come Again and feel At home, once, twice There will be no thrice - For then I find doors shut on me. So I have learnt many things, son I have learned to wear many faces Like dresses – home face Office face, street face, host face Cocktail face, with all their conforming smiles Like a fixed portrait smile. And I have learned too To laugh with only my teeth And shake hands without my heart I have also learned to say “Goodbye” When I mean “Good-riddance”: To say “Glad to meet you” Without being glad; and to say “It’...