Hope all of you are having a smashing weekend! Again, all you amazing people have delivered us amazing submissions as usual.
First up, we have a hilarious poem by Aniketh Venkataram, a doctor from Bangalore.
A Barberic experience
You might not at first glance realize
the perils that accompany soda glass eyes
So let me share with you, this morceau
that might well make you think twice
My last cut was in early may
and now my long black locks had ceased to obey
i surmised a visit to the barber was in order
try as hard i did to avoid it, my hair tried harder
For all those wondering about my main objection
i reply, the problem is one of image projection
You see i suffer from severe myopia
Without my specs, i just cant see ya
So whenever i sit in the chair with my vertex being done
i can never quite be sure of the outcome
When he removes the drape all hale and hearty
For me its more or less a surprise party
Will it be too short, will it be too lengthy
I suppose either will be okay as long as its of symmetry
I do not want all my work undone
in gaining a reputation of being uniquely handsome
The last occasion, to make things a little more awry
The corporation decided we had had enough of power supply
So i sat there in the cold cold darkness
half my head full of hair, half my head with far less!
The lights flickered back on, at the height of my fears
and the fellow continued on with his shears
when he decided my scalp was ok after a hair census
i was finally reunited with my lenses
I looked straight and at my profile
And felt, not bad, its got a certain style
So alls well that ends well, my worries too keen?
But still the heart shudders at what might have been
I leave, after giving a tip of generosity
I wouldnt want him to attack my hair next time with more ferocity
As i trudge back home, i know its a brief respite
Ill be back next month, fighting the good fight!
We have another lovely poem by Tanveer Bal, a first year student of Journalism, Psychology and English at Christ University.
The Epitaphs
Frosted paths lead the way to silent grounds
Where the departed lie forever, laid to rest
So many headstones, names and dates
Of those, who lived on these snowy grounds
Remembrance of our cherished ones, who
Make most of our memories brighter still.
Water trickling down the steps of a garden
That sparkled in the sun, now lies frozen
For the cemetry gates have been opened
Forever, for the winter to set in and have its way
These graves seem all the same, these headstones
These epitaphs all bear the same little things.
The name, the date of birth, the date of death
And a few lines to quote, that we were someone
Someone worthy to be remembered, that we meant
A lot to those who knew us, lived in our lives
Who now offer prayers and mourn our death
Who lay flowers at our graves in remembrance.
What is death, but one that seeks no favours
That does not distinguish between the size of our graves
Or whether we had busts or simply mounds of earth
Or were ever commemorated and honoured
And so in death, we hold the highest honour
The honour to deserve death, for we deserved to live.
So what made us so worthy, so worthy to live?
A chance at life, to be a part of this wondrous planet
What made us so precious, that we were born?
It is so that each of us is worthy, let’s deserve this worth
Each of us can change this world, for we are different
But similar in the fact that all of us dream.
It is for us to find reality in these dreams
Before death can catch us and tell us
” I’m sorry, but your life has been lived
I gave you enough time, so don’t blame me.”
So live your life like its the last leap of faith
And Death, the leveller, breathes peaceful grace.
And there you have it. That’s all for today, folks! Don’t worry if your work hasn’t been published if you’ve submitted. If it’s great, it will show up next time. If you want to have your work up on the blog, send it to mangomustacheblog@gmail.com.