Posts Tagged ‘verse’

Birding, now….

April 2, 2020

Gone are the days of birding travel.
The virus has made all my plans unravel.
From planning to see the Myzornis,
My birding world has shrunk to this:
How can I catch the Tailorbird,
Which whips in and out, and is only heard
Upon the terrace that I keep looking at? Why
Should these birds be so wary and shy?
Such a fleeting glimpse of the yellow White-eye…
What makes it so keen to zip and fly?
Why can’t it wait and pose for me
And let me take a photo…or three?
I have forgotten the forests, the deer and leopards
And even the various, colourful birds.
Mountain streams and riverside breeze,
Coastal stickiness and Himalayan freeze.
Life for me is the Barbet in the Bangalore sun.
Sighting a Koel is quite a lot of fun.
It’s the terrace that exerts a recurring pull,
For a sight of the Sunbird or the Bulbul.
Overhead, the v-shaped tails of the Black Kite.
The fluttering Pigeons, blue, grey and white.
I can’t even hear the Crows, of late,
Or see their throats of dull grey slate.
Birding is also memories: I go to my Flickr
And wish my broadband speed was quicker.
I visit, once again, birds all over the world:
Fieldfares, Bluebirds, Toucans, with their feathers unfurled.
I close my laptop and arise from my sofa,
And dream of the day when again I will go far
Looking for my beloved, favourite birds,
Which will then be real, not just photos and words!

grey-headed kingfisher

Grey-headed Kingfisher from Tanzania.

Women’s Day, 2020

March 8, 2020

To celebrate a woman’s day
One doesn’t need a breast.
Nor uterus nor ovaries/Or any of the rest.
What’s needed is a woman’s mind
Intelligence that’s calm
A woman’s heart, with empathy
And kindness gentle and warm.
The ability to hold a home
And family together.
Let’s raise a toast and celebrate
Women of a feather!

The G-string…

February 24, 2020

When I was born, in Kolkata
I had a G-string around me.
Not the one that you’re thinking of!
Wash your dirty minds, and see

My words…. I had around me
Scores of G’s….Banner-G
Chatter-G, and Mukher-G.
However, today, what others admire
About me…is my Ener-G!

It’s all I have, that saves me from
A deadly lazy lethar-G.
It keeps me from sinking down
Though I’m well past my apo-G.

And if my nonsense verse annoys you
With its total or-G
Of G-words, just snap back at me..
Or accept my apolo-G!

Bird id…

December 24, 2019

He said, “I regret
To say, I can only identify
This bird called the Egret,
The other thing that’s long and white
That I can sight,”
He said with a sigh,
“Is…a cigarette!”

Knee trouble..

November 21, 2019

There was a time, my life was a song
The patella, femur and tibia, they all got along
I ran, I jogged, I danced with such poise
But soon they began to make some noise
Crack, pop, grate, what’s all this fuss
The doc saw my knee, said crepitus
They rubbed each other the wrong way
Good ol’ cartilage couldn’t keep them at bay
Femur told the patella you are always in my face
Why don’t you realize I need some space?
The quadriceps tried to mediate but soon got worn
The ligaments would have tried but they were already torn
The big burly synovium now laughed in glee
My knee swelled up in this unusual melee
I tried many things but all in vain
Oh say hello to chronic pain
Some Chinese healer stuck needles into me
My neighbor told me try physiotherapy
I even got a bee-sting, if you get the gist
Then someone suggested “rheumatologist”
Did he do better it’s really hard to say
Let’s leave doctor-bashing for another day
Maybe it’s time to slow down in life
How I dread the thought of going under the knife
Symptomatic treatment isn’t it just a lure
C’mon science buck up, where is the cure?
————–
*The knee Pop*

Dr. Benzeeta Pinto,
Asst. Prof. Clin immunology and Rheumatology,
St. John’s Med College, Bengaluru

They Must Not Be Named!

September 12, 2019

Everyone tells us that they are harmless, we should not bother about them, and so on and on and on,until we are scared even to take their name…

I have travelled in the mountains
And waded in the beaches
But these creatures I can’t abide,
They are the…..

I take flights to far-flung places
Walk to remote river reaches.
But in rain and slush I look down.
I’m worried about those…..

“Travel light! Take much less!”
Every guide book teaches.
But I take with me socks, salt and spray,
To use on those pesky……

I may subsist on only bread
Or fruit…bananas and peaches
But I don’t want to donate my blood
To those thirsty, sucking……

They get into our tee-shirts,
They get into our breeches
We even found some on our necks,
Those horrid little……!

I’ll have to wash out all my socks
With detergent and bleaches
To get rid of the awful bloodstains
Left by those dirty…….!

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The Oleander Hawk Moth in verse….

July 25, 2019

Two highly-qualified friends, Rachit and Shubham, were debating about whether the photo of a moth posted on the group we all belong to, was “Daphnis nerii” or “Daphnis hypothous”.

In gratitude, I posted a little doggerel about the scientific name, in a lighter vein….

It may be Daphnis nerii or hypothous…
It makes no difference to mostofous.
More general is our talk:
It’s “Moth, Oleander Hawk”…
We have no other theory or hypothesous!

Here’s the beautiful moth:

Un id moth casa ansal 221007//embedr.deepamohan/assets/client-code.js

Glory Lily, Bhootanahalli,130719

July 15, 2019

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I got the bud, the bloom, and the fading flower.
I got the childhood, the prime of youth, and the departing hour.

Tax

July 7, 2019

A poem for Union Budget 2019

Tax his land, tax his wage,
Tax his bed in which he lays.
Tax his tractor, tax his mule,
Teach him taxes is the rule.

Tax his cow, tax his goat,
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his ties, tax his shirts,
Tax his work, tax his dirt.
Tax his chew, tax his smoke,
Teach him taxes are no joke.
Tax his car, tax his grass,
Tax the roads he must pass.

Tax his food, tax his drink,
Tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his sodas, tax his beers,
If he cries, tax his tears.

Tax his bills, tax his gas,
Tax his notes, tax his cash.
Tax him good and let him know
That after taxes, he has no dough.

If he hollers, tax him more,
Tax him until he’s good and sore.
Tax his coffin, tax his grave,
Tax the sod in which he lays.

Put these words upon his tomb,
“Taxes drove me to my doom!”
And when he’s gone, we won’t relax,
We’ll still be after the inheritance tax….
~ Author Unknown

The butterfly dirge

July 2, 2019

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Rounded Pierrot

When I started looking
At lovely butterflies,
I felt that very soon I’d be
Lepidopterally wise.

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Pointed Ciliate Blue

From Albatross to Zebra Blue
I thought it was a cinch
But the butterfly alphabet
Is killing me, inch by inch.

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Dark Grass Blue

First came the Blues, and blues were what
These Lycaenids cast me into.
Even Grass Blues are Lesser and Tiny…
Pale and Dark forms, too!

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Anomalous Nawab

Another colour, the Yellow, this time,
Cast my life in further doubt.
Three-spotted, Spotless, Common, more….
I knew not what I was about.

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Spot Swordtail

The Rings put all my mathematics
And basic numbers to shame.
Alas, a Common Four-ring
And a Five-ring often look the same!

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Danaid Eggfly

Brown was a colour I felt at ease with…
Until it was preceded by “Bush”.
Trying to find out which one it was
Reduced my brain to mush.

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Golden Angle

Then came the procession
Of the scientific names;
The dry and wet-season forms,
The gentlemen, and the dames.

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Yellow Orange-tip

Under all this profusion
Of names and facts, I groan
The only butter fly I am sure of
Is when Amul or Vijaya is thrown!

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Lilac Silverline