Persian Laila
Humour, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, satire, wit,

The Persian Laila

Having feasted past-midnight, Persian Laila got up lazily at the stroke of twelve. Wearing her sparkling tiara, she rose with a numbing headache resultant of a hangover,

Caused by the left-over French champagne that she drank greedily from the China glass of her Benevolent master.

Her master’s darling she occupied a special place in his cozy lap and abhorred the site of her pot-bellied mistress,

For Laila considered her as a staunch-competitor and purred when ever she dared come near especially at long intervals of midnight drinks .

She would adorn herself on the left thigh of master and lick heavenly nectar only from the corner his pinkish wrinkled hands.

A site to behold midst bubblingchampagne and the smoke of expensive Cuban cigars. Her blue eyes drunk with envy and rage, she fought hard and with everyone for her master’s attention.

On rare occasions of evening strolls, she would walk with snobbish air and displeased countenance on the cobbled streets of rustic New York.

Looking down with disdain on all other pussies in the town, as she deemed them to be too causal and boring in the appearance,

For Laila came from the Persian peninsula from the house of the grand pasha of Azerbaijan, her great-grandmother the dark-eyed Hoorie was a favorite of the sultan-Suleiman.

And what a cherished presence on all matters important of every concern but was slain on one moonless night by the jealous ladies of Sultan’s Harem.

All were fine, till troubles started to brew, for master was a man of excess and one Persian damsel was not enough and yearned for another beauty to occupy the vacant right thigh!

So brought a petite French this time, Annabella who had a legacy of her own, for she came-from the family of Master pastry chef, Monsuier Jean Paul employed in the house of King Louis XII.

Both pussycats couldn’t look each other in the eye for both was endowed with looks and style to charm any.

One fine day while the master was away, in a brawl with each other both got their tails entangled, the mistress had enough and decided to sail one of them away…

And who better than the Persian Laila, for she was never in her good books. Hence a plan was hatched and poor Laila was swiftly hurried off to live with an old woman in quite a corner

Of the town and master was told a tale of how she eloped with neighbor’s Valentino who had-no history to boast of. 

Annabella now the reigning queen while Laila spent her time remembering the days of glory gone by.

Wedding Carpet
feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Love, Nature, poetry

THE WEDDING CARPET

In the dark corner of the house adorned a crimson hued Tabrizi rug,

gifted to me as the wedding present, imported from the mountains;

of Hindu-Kush, embellished with poppy flowers and lovers’ passionate hugs

Violet borders bejeweled with a fine needlework of embroidered springs.

 

Especially handcrafted from the hands of a virgin maid with lofty desires

Intricately woven with the woolly knits and exquisite twisted golden wires

So how it became a constant companion in my otherwise blissful nuptial voyage

taking the shape and creases of my body in its crimson folds, so clairvoyant

 

We both grew to confide and embrace each other on moonless nights

During the dark nights I would hear vague cries and faint sighs

And would awoke by the silent sobbing and consistent choking sounds

The tormenting shrills one makes when inflicted with a fresh wound

 

After long desperate searches in the eerie neighborhoods in vain

I decided to hunt down the sniveling offender on a night when it rain

As I searched and rifled, discovered it came from the joints of the rug

Deep with in the sews of silverfish anklets and bangles, felt as if on high drug

 

Veiled and shackled a gaunt silhouette appeared in the woolen cracks

Thickened clots of cherry blood from bruised hands left its tracks

The sobbing sounds grew louder and a known voice pierced through

“My virgin hands intricately weaved the wires of gold and silver to woe

 

 I dared to dance with my heart’s desire with men of different tribe

A misconduct for which I was to be buried-alive in sews and imbibe

Frozen embalmed in the embroidered joints I came back from death

When your warm saline tear cascaded in my mouth I finally took a breath”

 

We  became  lovers of sorts, embracing on moonless nights,

Fasted and prayed on our Tabrizi rug, shed tears, took gentle sighs

 It became a seminary a refuge when her or mine master was around!

 Until the inauspicious day of a long lunar month when we both were found

Castrated for our naked sins, she was burnt while I was forever hound!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

grey eyed sadness
History, life, Love, Nature, poetry

Wise Clown

Some exist a wise clown,

dwelling peacefully in

the grim garbs of a jester.

Sprouting often exquisite pearls,

of wisdom here and there;

somewhere in between the

words that men consider banal.

While few exist intellectual

suffering peevishly in the

golden robe of a wise man.

Shackled enslaved by their

pretentiousness, declined and despised

by their intellect. Banished and

forever cursed to measure each word

with someone’s rhyme and meter.

life, Literature, Love, poetry

Abuse Mechanism

There is no individual as far as I can see who has not been either abused or inadvertently part of abusing someone. Someone brilliantly remarked in life you are abused by some and you abuse some. I don’t know whether, I agree with the statement or not , but I do feel we all need to develop a thick rhino skin to be able to withstand the conniving abuse mechanisms of certain people unfortunately of few who are closely related.

In couples very often children are used as a ploy to threaten each other. I’ve been in a position several times where I’ve been threatened that my daughter will be taken away if I try to leave. Earlier out of fear very often I’ll give in due to fear of being separated from my child but lately I’ve decided not to let the fear paralyze me and allow things to unfold. I guess once bullies and abusers are shown that you don’t fear the consequences, it breaks the whole pattern of abuse. What do you 🤔 think??

As they say there is a bigger victory awaiting after fear… . It’s disheartening that the weakest individuals among choose such mechanisms to intimidate and weaken the spirits of others. Some of us give in thinking that may be this is the end and get caught up in vicious cycle of abuse mechanism. If you feel you’ve been in similar pattern of abuse, I feel you need to first get rid of the debilitating fear and seek help, I’m sure it’s available or talk to near and dear ones.

Most importantly break the pattern of your own fear and anxiety!