The lonely rabbit is in cage
He is prepared to die
His little mind is all inflamed
The rabbit has been framed
He knows by who(m) and why
Die, little bunny, die
No need to be enraged
Tag: life
On the Death of a Mole
His body mutilated by dogs
His black shiny coat is torn open to expose
Flesh underneath
He was an ordinary garden mole
Who tried to take
(No, not his own life)
But a peek at the daylight
At sun and sky
And smell the fragrant flowers
And as he cautiously pushed
His little head from the dark depths below
He was just trapped and killed
Because he might have spoiled the looks
Of a blind woman’s well manicured lawn
Hopeless leaves
Dissonance
The sun is still the same
That coward of a sun
Who hides behind its’ name
Who lurks behind grey clouds
While teasing from above
Its’ warmth so insincere
Its’ light so void of love
Its silly, shallow shine
Blinds me as I raise my head
And stare at its face
I force myself to smile
The Sun smiles coyly back
And blinded I look down
And think about my son
And try to keep it cool
And there far away
I know things are the same
Cars, kids and shabby trees
Façades of buildings, some ornate
Their dirty old courtyards
And smell of garbage, rot
Of strangers’ lives long lost
Of cursed unhappy fate
Discarded ice cream wrapper
A pool of urine in the corner
Abandoned doll, its blond head cracked open
(There are no brains inside)
Pigeons, those pesky rats with wings
Through a ground-floor window
An old wrinkled face stares at you
Amidst unneeded things
The window glass is dirty
A napping lazy cat
More trash and bottle caps
A bunch of kids run by
I leisurely walk
I envy them a lot
The sun is still above
Façades, inner courtyards, kids, cars
Discarded ice cream wrappers Discarded discount love
Aged whores and seedy bars
Of the most disreputable fame
It’s all the same but you’re not here
You’d never know that all is still the same
Ping Pong
The ping pong ball bounces off the table
And flies definitely to a surprising height
Just to come down, get hurt and bounce again
Two players are showing off who’s able
To hit it at an angle in its flight
One strikes the ball, the thing’s insensitive to pain
It soars, it flies – quite like an alien spaceship
And travels through the air in an erratic motion
Outdoors is mayhem, thunder, heavy rain
While I would rather weep
But to weep here? What a crazy notion.
Another player gives the ball a blow
The spaceship dashes in its final thrust
Like rocket racket cuts air like a knife
But misses target, the ball flies low
It lands ignominiously to rest in dust
And I think wow, the ball’s exactly like my life
When I go outdoors
When I go outdoors, it is always cloudy.
They tell me that I am wrong, it is a sunny day!
The Sun is warm and comforting and gay
In that old straight sense of the comic word
But all I see are clouds, intensely grey
And so I shyly pray to the Almighty Lord
And stuttering I beg, and plea, and say:
Please let me see what they all can see
That cheerful Sun
Please give me back my dear, my beloved son
He doesn’t answer, His silence is benign
He knows that all too well
Theirs is the Sun above but all the clouds are mine.
Roobit's Poetry Burrow 