The Pretty Butterfly

A pretty butterfly
Soaring through the sky.
Looks down below,
Here a bellow.
There a belch.
Voices mellow.
Aroma and stench.

Who is it I hear cry?
The butterfly desires perfection.
Abdomen uneven, wings crudely tied.
What irony!!

The butterfly waves,
To me.
She craves
For nothing but ideal.
And I rave,
With rage.
For it is not that I am perfect.
Less do I wish to be.
And seeing that I'm approved,
Neither is she.

Comments

What the New Year Means to Me

What does the new year mean to me? I don't know. I think it just means that I can give myself another chance to try, fail, succeed. I think it means that I can spend time with family, differently this time. I think it means that I can connect with people and with myself, in new ways. I also think that it gives me a chance to see things with a different lens. The kaleidoscope becomes a periscope. I don't know what else. Every year, I put on a new pair of goggles. Every year, I grow, whether I try, or not. Some things may work as I had expected them to, some may not. But who knows? I will allow myself to be Novak Djokovic in my arena, who hears his name when the crowd cheers for Nadal or Federer. I will allow myself to be Rafael Nadal, who always has a plan, no matter how bleak or bright things may seem, and sticks to it. I will allow myself to be Roger Federer, who glides in, serves, plays and walks out, all in grace and style. I will allow myself to b...

Nut and Shell

Coconut Tender as a coconut. Hard as a coconut. Light as a coconut. Heavy as a coconut. I wish I was a coconut Today... A double-shelled, strange coconut. They call those people coconuts Whom they cannot understand, Like tapping on hard rock but not getting hurt- Like knocking against the hollow And shaking a bowl of jingling water That is cushioned by tender walls. Well, maybe people could be coconuts They could have hard shells and tender interiors, A hard crunch but a sweet essence- I would like to believe so. I want to know why I'm fascinated by the coconut. It can't be solely because of its duality. It can't be its beguiling double facedness. What is it, then? I feel like maybe a shaft of light A hollow for each hard tap- Tears through the hard door. An intriguing belt of adventurous light Wriggles out from apparent darkness. Mystery, mystery. That's what it is. The mysterious coconut. It has a shell But it has a soul- Shell protects soul, Soul preserves shell I...

My Imaginary Pen Pal

Ma Chére Amie Félicia, Bonjour! I wonder how long it's been since I last wrote to you. Time enough for the salutations to transform from English into French indeed!:) How is old Bob keeping? Still nosing the kennel for those dollops of fondue? Ha Ha, I really won't be surprised. 'The Triple Imbecile!' #Mam'zelle Dupont. Give Scruff my greetings. Where's that collar I gifted him? Gnashed into bits? :( Or does Mickey wear it on her head now? :\ Send me a photo whichever one of the two. :) Last week we learnt how to tell the time in French. Pretty tedious for 11 o'clock, if you please. Pun intended. Knuckle-knocks not very frequent , thankfully. Neither are the thumb-fiddles. No question as regards the eye-droops- French is incapacitated to give me those! We're having fun galore learning French!:) I miss your hot chocolat terribly. Something like the warm gust of the Niagara trickling into my throat. Yesterday when I was ...

The Happy Wanderer

Search This Blog