Archive for October 2009:

I Am A Shoe Stocker

Pictures Are From Internet



I Am A Shoe Stocker


No, I am not off my rocker
I am merely a shoe stocker

I have a fetish for matching shoes
New pairs banish any lingering blues

High heels, low heels, flats and pumps
Latest style sneakers to make me jump

Back then design and colors ruled the roost
Pirouetting prettily in shoes as an ego boost

Clogs, boots, stilettos and plain Mary Jane’s
All were wearable then without complains

Now with advancing years comfort is the by word
I collect shoes and mores shoes to keep me anchored

Flat feet and fallen arches are the bane of a shoe lover
Warding off is an uphill task as it does my image butcher

Wearing sturdy not so fancy shoes is now my sad lot
Shoes stocking habits hence have suffered somewhat

***   ***


These Boots Are made For Walking- Nancy Sinatra


These Boots Are made For Walking- Nancy Sinatra

You keep saying you got something for me
Something you call love but confess
You’ve been a’messin’ where you shouldn’t ‘ve been a’messin’
And now someone else is getting all your best
Well, these boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

You keep lyin’ when you oughta be truthin’
You keep losing when you oughta not bet
You keep samin’ when you oughta be a’changin’
What’s right is right but you ain’t been right yet
These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you


You keep playing where you shouldn’t be playing
And you keep thinking that you’ll never get burnt (HAH)
Well, I’ve just found me a brand new box of matches (YEAH)
And what he knows you ain’t had time to learn
These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you


Are you ready, boots?
Start walkin



The Librarian



 Pushing back pince nez

Two out of eyes two

Aquiline nose astride

Surveying lined rows

Domain with pride

Was the librarian



Aisles of stiff spines

Books in confines

an ocean of whines

opines, pines, twines

Words strung outlines

Stroked by librarian



Enclosed and bound

Embossed n collated

Hard back paper back

Bytes in soundtracks

Imprisoned in discs

Guarded by librarian



Transcripted risks

Churned out whisks

Mind’s fantasy frisks

Saddled to peddle

Print pressed capsule

Counseled as per rule



All librarian’s treasure


Granny And Grandpa


My Grandma 

Supporting covered head on a diminutive form

And subtle steely tenderness for family to conform

  Brooking no laxity, got compliance with alacrity

Grandpa with walrus moustache too gave in meekly

 She ruled her roost judiciously with élan and aplomb

Kids knew her silence was more lethal than a firebomb

 Children, grandchildren, chauffeur, cook and the maids

All got their instructions and duty allocation every day

 Thus ran the sprawling home like a well oiled machine

With her at helm it was dusted and polished pristine

 As our summer vacation nest we experienced her love only

She showered it fairly whilst plying us with many a goody

 Cocooned in her love hot summer months zipped by in a blur

Soon we returned home falling in rut as schoolbag haulers 

Halcyon days of summer vacations glitter like night’s twinkling stars

I often traipse down memory lane where granny made us feel like tsars

 Grandparents are like an oasis of love and a fountain of benevolence

Rejoicing in clan’s extension and flowering of planted tree’s fragrance  

  ***  *** ***  

 R_Varma_Portrait_SGrandpa’s Walrus Moustache

 Grandpa was hopping mad
Someone had done him bad
Overnight forest was denuded
Invader virginal lip marauded

As he jumped up and down in rage
Toddler Monty joined him in jump race
This made grandpa crackup in guffaw
Dislodging the rage bone stuck in craw

Settling down in his favorite rocker
Held conference to solve this shocker
Placed box on table for confession slip
Needing ownership of this sacrilege quick

His hookah pipe felt it was in alien territory
Saddened at missing moustache now history
Puffing in quick succession inhales felt odd
A bald upper lip made grandpa rather appalled 

Daily an hour long fond care was expended
To maintain health of moustache extended
It was soon to be an entrant in record books
Now cruelly shaved upper lip agitated shook

After a long sleepless fasting mournful night
Grandpa opened box to find a slip to shed light
In his slumber family had caused its full pruning
Doctor said moustache was also his health ruining

Hygiene demanded that walrus moustache be gone
Being a veritable magnet, hotbed of bacteria borne
Love had made them take this drastic extreme step
Villainously robbing grandpa’s pride to health pep

Saga happy sad sweet sour it is of grandpa’s moustache
A ferocious walrus bush mush to which he was attached
From it in cloak n dagger fashion was by family detached
A friendly barber as hangman wielded razor with panache

 ****   ****   ****

was fondly remembering my granny and grandpa and the tickling huge moustache-

he looked like the image above except for a different hat (headgear)

 (pictures are from the internet- disclaimer)

Light Of My Life

elyssaoct09Light of My Life 

She is the light of my life

She makes it all worthwhile 

When life weighs me down

Her image washes away my frown

 When irritation attacks something fierce

Recalling her lovely face helps it pierce  

 When pain reduces my gait to a shuffle

I recall vow to improve for my eye’s apple

 When the going gets hard and really tough

Your thought makes me want to come on top

You are my moonbeam and my ray of sunshine

Your smile reinforces my faith and my bloodline

 Grandchild is the light of my life

And she makes it all worthwhile

  YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE (Debbie Boone)

So many nights I sit by my window
Waiting for someone to sing me his song
So many dreams I kept deep inside me
Alone in the dark but now
You’ve come along

You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days
and fill my nights with song

Rollin’ at sea, adrift on the water
Could it be finally I’m turning for home?
Finally, a chance to say hey,
I love You
Never again to be all alone

You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days
and fill my nights with song

You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days
and fill my nights with song

It can’t be wrong
When it feels so right
‘Cause You
You light up my life



A Picture Speaks 


A statement of frustration

In doodles

Thumbing nose at institutions

In oodles

Institution’s blood

Boiling in curdles


 Rectangular window

 Human neglect and decay

Sharp defined squares frayed

Cobwebs having field day

Spiders having measured land’s lay

Resigned to careless hands born to betray   


Standing firm and proud

In colors sepia to blend not loud

Like a dog to a glowing lamp post-

Sacrilegiously reduced to a graffiti host

plus gouged crucified by square iron posts

note: a wall is a parent

graffiti – expressions of ungrateful children

steel window frame are hardships parents face in life’s journey

(picture courtesy-

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