freedom of thought and its expression

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Verse and Meta-Verse

An owl who sat on the mulberry branch,
Desperately wanted to go to France.
(Lost in thought.)
(Can that thought be bought?)
(About why it had to be an owl.)
(Would you prefer a tiger on the prowl?)
(It could have been a wild fowl,
That would screech and hoot and howl.)
(I'm not sure if they usually do.
But I'm sure, that would have been you.)
But the owl needed wings to fly.
His own were too weak and badly dyed.
So he took a ticket to 'Paris'
To meet up with a long lost Marie.
Marie was beautiful, and yellow black and brown.
She eased out the Owl's feathers and kissed away his frowns.
Her curvaceous wings, streamlined and aerodynamic,
Her perfect beak, and eyes that were electric.
Taught him how to be, French at heart,
But then she had to leave. Her show was to start.
He started thinking. He hadn't felt like this in years,
Thoughts of the time he had lost, he was moved to tears.
He made sure he was there. Front row center.
Then the show began and his heart beat harder.
They had been childhood friends, steadfast and sweet.
He had always been enamoured of her pretty grey feet.
They danced before him and lightly hopped.
Then paused for a while, when the music stopped.
And as she danced away on that stage under the spotlight,
He thought he would die of happiness at the lovely sight.
He wanted to swoop and hoot with pride.
He wanted to have her always at his side.
And when the show ended, he wrapped her close with his broken wings.
It was then that he spied that cruel, cruel ring.
"You are married?" he cried out in plaintive tones.
She had reduced him to an aching heart and shivering bones.
She turned her head away, by a hundred and eighty degrees.
And the silence remained, except for her feathers in the breeze.
He looked at the stars, and quietly smiled.
He felt better. Took it in his stride.
The affection did end. Like all good things.
But she remained, a monument to suffering,
He packed his bags for home. Left without a goodbye.
The show was over, and so was the night.

[Conversations with Sita's cousin]

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