Skip to main content

A BOY CALLED LOON : RHYME 78

There was a boy called Loon in
Mama's neighborhood,
Who habitually did wrongs
And was very crude.

He would use foul words and
Behave vulgarly
And make sundry mischiefs 
Daily and nightly. 

He read in Mama's school 
But was a truant
And moved here and there
Like a vagrant.

With bad older boys, he'd take
Ganja and heroin,
In his tiny belly, he'd guzzle 
Litres of wine.

He'd harm animals and birds
And destroy plants,
Over no reason, he'd quarrel 
And create disturbance.

A nut, loon, idiot, foul-up...he 
Was every bad figure;
Because he was a small boy,
People would endure.

His doting parents were blind
To his wrongful acts
And would brazen it out if
You made complaints.

Because he was their only child,
They'd pamper him,
And provide nourishment to his
Each destructive whim.

Suddenly, one day, Loon fell
Seriously I'll;
Despite all treatments, his 
Illness wouldn't heal.

And he died in hospital after
A long suffering;
Many years has past, his parents
Are still crying. 

- N P SAMAL 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

KISS ME, PLEASE!

Woo-hoo...! Kisss you...u...u...u...??? Oh, I'm being frenzical !!! My slavering tongue is jerking fast And my quivering lips are pouting out With booms of kisses in the air -- Ummah...! Ummah...! Ummah...! Just yesterday, an okay got my promise. Today is the chance no way to miss. And ready is my basket with pecks, Lip-locks, French kisses, and other varieties... I'm also ready for the lizard kiss, And the kiss of the Spider man... And I'm sure I won't beg like Big B  -- (Juma, chumma de de chumma...), This is my right to kiss I earn'd this week. I shall kiss like one Dhoom 2's Hritthik-Aash's, Although I envy Emraan's 'Murderous' thriller kiss... I'm ready with my balmy lips, Strawberry flavour'd,  To be the biggest smoocher  Of do hazaar chhabees... And I have hidden the cracks  On my wintry lips  To save from rashes My Valentine's softy cheeks... Well with flushed up teeth, With cleaned up tongue, With exotic ...

TWENTY FIFTY : SONNET 187

 Twenty Fifty  Sonnet 187 Sapiens are closing in on twenty fifty, But know not what the year has kept for them; In their mind the ephemera's nest of history, So they can't see eternity's landing emblem; Nor can hear the brain's untold prediction,  That life'll fore'er be rid of the grip of death. Oh, wake up for the deathless New Creation, To say goodbye to death  do hold the wreath! The elixir's coat on Earth the year will lay, Whereupon one once born will live forever; The men of science are working night and day,  To create the world's supremest wonder. Just stay safe till the emergence of the Fountain; If you haven't died, you WILL be young again. ©️ N P Samal 

THE BATHROOM SINGER : SONNET 176

           The Bathroom Singer                        Sonnet 176 From the bathroom comes the voice and plays Around in many a number, gently touching Each lucky soul -- from youth to elder age -- With its enchanting notes of love and longing... But the singer wishes for no credit;  No listeners he does think to entertain, But him, alone, alone to suck each beat, Each tone, each pitch, each rhythm, each refrain, As the showery bathroom's walls replay His romantic, lovey-dovey numbers In the quiet hours each morn, each day In his cube-size happy universe... I doubt the man's self-entertaining soul If to amuse him, he has none in the Whole. ©️ N P Samal