One more mistake

One more mistake.

One more mistake is just found.
A big one which can easily be accused
for causing all the big differences-
too big indeed.

Not that the mistake was committed
somewhere secretly.Not that
my eyes were closed.Not that
I was not aware it was a mistake.

The fact is only this much
that I always felt my path would be different
that I didn’t like doing things the way
everyone did and now it appears a mistake.

Now it seems it was very important
to walk on a common path to reach
to a common standard destination
besides walking on a path other if you should.

The shirt which we did not buy

The shirt which we did not buy.

Maybe soon by the end of the week
next,we will find him,on the way
among the crowd festive
wearing a particular shirt.

The man is not important here
but the shirt which he wears.
We didn’t buy this shirt today
but he did.

I don’t know the man.
He doesn’t know us.
Neither does he know
his shirt has a poem in its pocket.

there would be pets, mostly cats

there would be pets, mostly cats.

In the story of my childhood
there would be pets, mostly cats.
Every year there would come a time
when we would suddenly discover
our old pussy looking at us
with suspicious eyes
while trying to conceal
something very important from us.

And now it would become our turn to explore
where did she exactly keep her kittens hidden.
She would be very unhappy on us
for searching out those places
where she would be secretly feeding her babies.
She’d stare at us with angry look
and would always hurry to shift her kittens
to a safer place.

She could not believe us at all
in her early days of newly found motherhood.
Those would be the days of early winter,I guess,
when she would give birth
and I would be getting very worried for her babies
and soon would be rushing to mom
for some old clothing
for arranging a comfortable bedding for her kittens.

After several try of shifting her babies to secret places
lastly she would be giving up her anger and mistrust on us
and would be accepting our gift for her kittens.
Sometime, she would now be feeling it safe
even to depend on us
when it was time for her to go for food.
Sitting and observing those small kittens sleeping
would be my favorite time pass.

But all the people have never been too good
to cats and their kittens everywhere.
Some would be very cruel to steal kittens from the cat
for no good reason but
to throw them out into the street corners
to get rid of too many cats in their house.
Probably they would keep information regarding
weakness of neighbors who loved cats.

This could be the reason why I would find
one or two kittens left orphan near our house too.
How could you leave such a small creature
shivering from cold and wanting food
all alone to suffer and die at roadside!
I am not unhappy that love or kindness for kittens
would drive me to act fast to take them to home.

Our pussy would not be much happy on that at all.
Mom again would be of immense help giving me
old clothing, warm milk and a feeding bottle or spoon.
This was such a fine experience of feeding milk to a kitten
with a small feeding bottle with love & kindness!
I still remember the boy and those helpless kittens.

But change in life is a must.
Now I keep no pets in my home.
I did not feel it important to know if my wife would be
should have a basic knack for keeping pets at home.
Neither I was serious about my childhood’s affinity
while seeking an alliance for matrimony.
So, none is to be blamed
if my mother is no more alive
if my wife does not feel comfortable with the cats
and if I can now ignore
those lonely kittens left on roadside to die.

 

the singer and a song

the singer and a song.

I was singing an old song
unaware
while my daughter
a pillion in my bike
was forbidding me to sing.

May be she was telling me
singing is not allowed
while biking.
May be she was telling
this is not safe.
or may be
she was telling
this song wasn’t good.

But how can this be?
This song, which I sang
murmuring
were such a hit song
in our time!

Dropping her to a teacher
(for a tuition)
now I return to home singing
my favorite old melody
in a very low voice.

May be my daughter thinks
people would laugh at me.
( but she doesn’t know
I care a little who laughs.
I’m a person who’s fond of
laughing at himself.)

This life is really very funny.
In my youth
I thought
I could be a good singer
but I could not
dare to think
singing could earn me bread.
Leave it,
this is a known story.

My daughter is also fond of
music of her taste.
She listens to
the English songs
but I can’t follow the lyrics.
These must be good songs
but they just don’t
give me those known
feelings.

Everyday I take her
to teacher
and bring back
but I know
for a few days now
I will remember
not to sing a song
while biking
but then
there will also come
a different day for me.

via the singer and a song.

a virtual poet

Jean Marc Henry

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