You give me hard tasks to do, Miss,
You make me stand on one leg
I wish I could know all the things
But how do I know, I beg?
You ask me a thousand questions
I must answer them right
I wish my little brain knew everything
But not everybody can be as bright!
You ask me to do the hardest sums
I must get the steps all right
You think I am one of those bums
But not everybody can be as bright!
You write in my diary I'm doing bad
You make me show it to dad
Though you know I'm not as bright
You cause me my bitterest plight!

You think my excuses utterly lame
Finding fault with whatever I say
But though I'm not as bright as them
I'll surely grow up one day!

If you call it a digression, I have to agree
Not every mundane occurrence can be made into poetry.
Take for instance what happened the other day in the bus
An aged woman was struggling to cope with the office rush.
All the men occupied their seats looking the other way
Offering her a seat being too heavy a price to pay.
Of the all one kind soul vacated her his seat
I call him kind because not many like him you meet.
The episode could end here with her polite thank you
The act wasn’t so great that more than it was due.
But that woman god bless her kissed him on forehead
Said, ‘sweet angel, you are in heaven made.
A stranger though in you I see more than my son
Our paths may not meet again but my heart you’ve won’.

What’s there in this account of a mundane occurrence,
To make from it a poetry and burden your patience?

Dear Pres. Obama,


Need a favor!

My business is falling apart.
Pretty sure, I'm going to get fired.

Can I borrow your
"I blame the Republicans for everything" speech?
Don't worry, I took a poll first.
Your approval ratings won't be hurt, cause they can't go any lower.

Yours truly,
A registered Democrat.

Having run across the field
to the river’s edge
she sat down on the grass
and he followed

out of breath
and sat beside her
she laughed
told you couldn’t catch me

Milka said
I can run like a gazelle
Naaman breathed in deep
Holding his groin

I gave you a head start
he said
I still won though
she said

pleased with herself
only just
he said
she lay back

on the grass
he watched her breathe
her chest rising
and falling slowly

she had her hands
over her stomach
her short fair hair
mixed with the green grass

she smiled
what are you looking
at me for?
I like looking at you

he said
why?
he looked at the river
because I do

must be a reason
she said
looking at him
with her dark eyes

I think of you
when I’m not with you
and so I need
to capture the image

of you for when
you’re not here
he said
do you think of me

all the time?
she asked
pretty much
he said

my brothers will think you
have gone soft
she said
he looked away

trees blew slightly
in the wind
the clouds were moving slowly
only with regards

to you
he said
he gazed at her
lying there

her legs raised
heels flat on the grass
her skirt showing
her thighs

I dream of you
she confessed
most nights
and pretend Teddy is you

and squeeze him tightly
near to me
so that he is right
against my *******

lucky Teddy
Naaman said smiling
taking in her lips
slightly parted

her teeth
just visible
poor Teddy
only has one ear now

and my mother
has sewn his arm on
many times
Milka said

Naaman lay down
on the grass
next to her
laying his hand

on her arm
feeling her pulse
her warmth
maybe you treat him

too roughly
Naaman said
she smiled
her lips spreading wide

well you’re not there
and he is a poor substitute
she said
I can’t be there

he said
your mother
seldom leaves the house
and if she is out

your father is there
or your brothers
besides you’re too young
for such things

what things?  
she asked
looking at him
trying to look serious

ask Teddy
he said
I’m 14
only 2 years

younger than you
she informed
I know
he said

your brother told me
when we were practising judo
last weekend
does he know you see me?

he knows I take you out
but he thinks I do so out of pity
because I feel sorry for you
she laughed

putting her hands
over her mouth
to stop the loudness
of her laughter

he thinks that?
Naaman nodded
what’s he think we do
pick flowers and watch butterflies?

he thinks we go see
the peacocks
he said
we do

she said
but not this
not what we did
last Sunday

Naaman added
we just kissed
nothing else
she said

more than he thinks
or your mother
he said
she looked at the river

the water flowing slow
best then
she said softly
they don’t know.

On the way back
from the cinema
with your old man

one Friday night
he stopped
at the fish and chip shop

and ordered chips
in salt and vinegar
in a large bag

and walked home
down Meadow Row
he talking of the films

you'd seen
how he once met
the actress

in some film festival
up West
you were thinking

of the cowboy
in the film
and how well

he drew his gun
especially using
his right hand

to get the gun
from his left hand holster
a kind of cross over style

and you thought
I must try that
when I get home

get it down
to perfection
and he said he'd seen

the actor( not
the cowboy guy
some other)

in the theatre once
in some play
you thought

how you'd show Ingrid
once you had
the technique of

cross over drawing
of the gun
to a fine art

she'd sit on the grass
by Banks House
and watch

with her mouth open
as you did
your show piece

and you'd show her
how fast you could draw
your 6 shooter or

maybe you'd wear
both guns
one on each side

the old man was still
yakking on
about this actress

but you were imagining
Ingrid sitting there
on the grass

or on the bicycle sheds
listening to you talk
of the film

and how good
the cowboy was
and you saw her

in your mind's eye
( as you and your old man
crossed over Rockingham Street

and up the *****
to the Square)
sitting there

with her eyes wide open
her hands
like sleeping doves

lying in her lap
and on the leg
(as usual)

a crimson mark
from her father's
hard slap.

The world for him is a chaos
No love no bond of dear ones
He seeks for actions no cause
It's only living this instance.
Dimly he sees things around
Can't make out what they're for
In the ocean's depth is no sound
He loves to live in stupor!
His eyes sometimes grow wet
Without his knowing why it's so
At times his smiles don't abate
From his lips they joyously flow.
His heart is free from torment
He's the one with least pain
For no sins he needs to repent
Most virtuous is he an insane!

Just thinking about seeing you, tonight,
Makes my eyes water
And my head spin
With various aspects of crazy.

I am considering (and trying to find an excuse)
To abandon a cosy dinner in a candlelit restaurant
For two hours in the rain, watching a Disney movie,
just so I can see your face.

Of course, I’m hoping there’ll be a resurrection
Of longing glances, whispered messages
And later, electronic conniving
Of the kind we have both been avoiding.

It won’t happen,
But I will derive a certain sick comfort
In seeing you there, in the rain,
Watching it trickle over your beautiful face
And wanting to kiss it away.  

I will be happier, and more comfortable
Squirming there in rain-soaked clothes
Than sipping top price Burgundy in you-know-where
With you-know-who.

But I know what I need to do,
The sensible thing, the only thing I can.
I'll leave you there, dewy and delicious
Kissed by rain, and wishing it was me.

Let me tell you a story,
of a girl plus a boy
who once were both dead.

Then they fell in love,
but this love was something more.
They saved each other.
The boy and the girl,
each had their own battles.
And when they lost their battles,
they found each other.
Both of them wounded and scarred,
each broken into pieces
from this battle called life.
But with each careful touch
and soft gentle kiss,
They put the pieces back together.
Healed each others wounds
found acceptance for their scars
and through their love,
They became alive again.

i hope you see this and realize how much
you have hurt me.
how much you have ripped the tears from my eyes
and thrown them to the cement ground.
i told you i loved you,
and instead of saying it back to me,
you walked off and asked me why i did.
you took everything from me,
and ran off with my feelings.

i believe in forgiving and not forgetting.
but i always seem to forgive you too often.
i let you slide countless of times,
and you stole even more.


i'm sorry i could not live up to your expectations.
but i am not perfect,
and neither are you.

i hope you are happy
with what you have imprinted on me,
because i am tired and foolish for meeting you.
i am done and so are we.
i gave you chance after chance,
and i guess i ran out of oppertunities to give.
maybe you will realize what has happened.
or
maybe
you
won't.

{-m.j.}