Tell a tale

He says,
Tell me about your poetry
In 30 second time.
No wonder why poetry is dying
But hey, let’s give it a try.
I got my whiskey to drink
Then after a meeting to abide by.
So either bore me with your rhymes
Or maybe talk about a novel,
If you have started any by this time.

She said,
30 seconds you say,
Against 23 years of my life?
To describe
The upside-down
And all the I’s and E’s
That went missing from my lines?
Of empty sheets
And dry nights
Of burnt toast
And blank sights.
You want me to tell you
The story of my life
While you sit there chewing at your cuticles
And become the villain of my life.
You want me to sing –
Of the hardship
And abrupt lies
Of cold skin
And blocked rhymes.
In 30 seconds…
You want me to tell you
A tale about
My head full of dreams,
Wish lists, stories and rhymes.
Haiku of the unforgettable times
My unheard verses from yesterday,
The first memory of my life…
You want to know everything
You want me to open my heart
And whisper into your ears
The poetry of my life
In 30 seconds time?

Let me tell you, pal
Poetry won’t suit you right.
And novels?
Well, I am celebrating myself
As a poet in this lifetime.
Though, I do fancy reading ’em
In my pass time.

So suck up your whiskey
While I storm out.
You’re a piece of shit
And I shall tell all about you
In my rhymes.

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Poetry

Sometimes an exorcism,
Other times evolution.
In between, revolutions
Untimely confessions.

A romance,
Sometimes, it’s just an illusion.
An awakening
Amidst retrospection and lies.

Poetry, my dear one
You are my unheard rantings,
A vermilion on the empty canvas
An impression of my disguise.

Poetry, you are love, reincarnated
Of the kind that you read in books,
Ballads and rhymes.
You are my therapy
My catharsis,
The story of my life.

Your name in my rhyme

Klein on my skin,
Wine in my pipeline.
Parked on the tow line,
Unwind is my punchline.
Borderline my friend,
I am a fireball, anytime.
My playtime’s your bottom line,
You’re a dufus, by design.

Sidelining facetime,
Meeting in real-time,
Front in the line
Outlining your frown lines,
I’ll grind you to dust
In no time –
Frankenstein style,
In my rhymes.