Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 3, Number 2. November 2020. ISSN: 2581-7094
The Perfect Lullaby
You picked me from a million blooms
one
stormy Sunday afternoon.
As
I was dancing wild and free,
You
knee 'd the ground to rescue me.
You
lifted me, my roots and all,
I
never saw me stand so tall.
But
when you saw my roots were soiled
You
cut them off; in case they spoiled
the
beauty that you saw in me
when
I was dancing wild and free.
With
strong palms you shielded me
from
getting swept away -
Enough
of everything I needed
to
never show decay.
In
dreamy tunes you sang
the
perfect lullaby.
So
safe within your grasp,
I
never thought I'd die.
My
Beloved Datura
I
breathed your scent so deeply,
You
melted all my pain.
I
saw snowflakes falling
whenever
it would rain.
I
liked the way you calmed me
whenever
my fears got through.
Every
waking moment -
All
I needed was in you.
My
obsession started growing;
You
were always on my mind.
No
one could drag me from you,
It's
true that love is blind.
Now
I see you never cared
for
you played me for a fool!
False
hope and broken promises -
Believing
you were cool.
Your
poison seeped inside me,
Corrupting
all my thoughts.
I
let you rule my body;
I
let you call the shots.
You
broke me and I let you!
You
deceiving ventura!
You
revived me - then you killed me…
My
beloved Datura.
The
Flower Lady
A
flower for you?
A
flower for you?
I
hear her on the streets.
Please
buy my flower, sir.
My
son I have to feed …
A
flower for some spare change
is
all I'm asking for.
Whenever
you need a flower, sir,
Come
knocking at my door.
A
flower for you?
A
flower for two?
A
flower for anyone?
All
those that walk by judge her,
(She
just wants to feed her son)
Some
will buy her flower,
Some
just walk on past.
Some
just spit to show her
She’s
of the lowest cast.
Yet,
she still sells her flower -
It's
the only thing she knows.
Day
in, day out and all year round
That's how her story goes.