Second MarriageĀ 

So she got married, again!       

For the sake of her daughter.

The force of her mother.

And the analysis of her sister.     

Young and naive at first,

She married for love!

And the end was a divorce,

‘Cause she hardly performed,

“A doormat”, oh god!!

Such a disgrace!

She made the whole family ashamed.

Oh, the tragedy!

‘Cause she didn’t bare this comedy,

Of beaten by her one true love.

“That’s an easy catch!”

That’s how it echoed, from the mouths of the unknown men!

Aftermath that divorce.

Her sister’s husband asked,

Whether he could warm her up?

The next door neighbour, 

Her daughter’s doctor,

Her best friend’s man

And her staff mate, the religion teacher!

She was surrounded by men, 

Who wanted to light up the candle flame.

“Ah, what a slut!” Her daughter’s friend’s mother whispered.

“I can live my own, and look after my daughter alone!” She mourned. 

Her mother disapproved! But inside she weeped, for her daughter. She had to get marry, again! That’s how the world works.

So she got married, again!

For the sake of the world’s vicious tongues. 


Bleeding roses

The rose between her legs, monthly blooms.

The nectar flows, but the hummingbirds leave(s), her to shed and mourn, alone.

And her mother scolds. Scolding her for worshiping the God, during demon’s period and for mourning out loud, when her brother is around, and for bleeding herself out, in front of her father by fault!

“Don’t you have a shame?” Her mother frowned!

Postmodern solitude.

I am my almost lover!
Laying on my bed, hover,
About the best dress in my drawer.
“she is bit different”, they whisper.
My cat, besides me prurr.
The kettle, my alarm, the whistler.
It’s the same time of yesterday.
Work. Walk. Weep. Wear that face and stay.
I’m okay.
Limitless, boundless life sway.
The bills, don’t wonder, I pay.
Solitude embraces, but the happiness, and the quietness, I may!
Passion on the plates.
My flesh and bones, sweat and blood, the nerves, stimulate.
“I have become the man i want to marry”, I contemplate.
As they insult, I’m not late.
I nourish and isolate.
A narcissist, may be , i negotiate!