I wonder, what about this magical lore?
Of my face a sunshine that thou shall adore.
Me a fair bosomed countenance of heavenly sight!
Now hurry me a kiss and don’t be a bore.
( Your very own next-door Monalisa)
I wonder, what about this magical lore?
Of my face a sunshine that thou shall adore.
Me a fair bosomed countenance of heavenly sight!
Now hurry me a kiss and don’t be a bore.
( Your very own next-door Monalisa)
Madame Neverhurry cousin
of Gustav Flaubert’s
Mrs Bovary,awoke at past 12
Suffering from a malady
Known as melancholy,
Casts her glance on the
Day’s chore, bored puts
The blinds back on, deciding
To have some high tea,
Summons, mischievous elves
On fire wings impatient
Yells “to get lost and bring
Forth aromatic mint tea with
Hazel nuts three or four”
On first command the elves
Disappeared, conjuring
A mysterious tea in glasses
Of crystal while the Madame
Put powders and billows,
adorning her buffet with
One Exquisite Ostrich feather
competing with the slopes
of Alps, all while thinking of
day’s chores and bitchy gossips
to be done which caviar to
be served with what exotic wine
at customary evening suppers
while discussing a mysterious
malady possessing modern ladies
known something as depression
so much work to do all
in a day, madam fainted
at 1 while still in satin beds
Personal elves hurried worried
Bellowing some wind trying
to revive with peacock
fans, “oh poor madam,
suffering pangs of
melancholy once again”
( Dedicated to all my beautiful women who loves to get up past noon)
An endless saga for the princely Florencio
has just begun with trumpets and horns
Fox and CNN like love-lorn destitute women
are in the arena to maneuver each other
in the valiant sport of storm-catching, in
the deep blue oceans of the mighty Atlantis
The senile weather channel has not stopped
humming an aching melody for days now,
like a heart missing a beat the Florencio has
just dropped from a category five to two
An empire taken over by frenzy of hoarding
We have more waters stocked in our homes
than in the magic wand of Florencio itself
The prying eyes of the whole world is set on
the storm of lifetime, the bet is that the regal
dark Florencio will beat exotic havocs of
Katrina’s and Laila’s of the past of-course poor
Andrew was never a match nor in name
or in game, Czar Tutin and one Ching Kong
dreaming if storm can do the task ordained
to them, it’s already a success for those seating
in the ovals and squares, as for me I just want
the boyish Florencio to pass and watch for the
devastating charms of debonair Valentino next
year while my husband yearns it to be sultry
Señorita…
-Tanya Shukla
( just a poem to lighten up the serious mood in the country. I pray for everyone’s safety and health)
A dream that possessed
One frightful night as I slept
Heard faint echoes and whispers
Terrified hid my face
In the fleece
Astonished saw
Shadows of mermaids
Sitting on edge
Fallen in love
With the same man
Ensuing a complex dilemma
Who will win
him over and
Be the object of
his drunk glances and
Vanilla flavored kisses
Mermaids no less than other
In looks or virtue
put forward
One strategy to defeat
the other
summon chefs of Conficious
How about “atar” from Arabia
French Petitt Gâteau or
Pearls from the basin of deep ocean
As discussing the
Sauvé debonair walked in
Unceremoniously
Time just froze
Stupefied mermaids
Out of all the one most
spoilt and bratty
With a look of disinterest
Casually yawning
Off handish uttered
I yearn a delicate
Piece of Velvet Cake
Made from Swiss strawberries
Lots of French wine to gulp
It down my parched throat
Hearing her, all the damsels
Thought one less competitor
As for the Man of Interest
Resolute thought damsel for velvet cake
Is the only one for me
As she appears the least bothered
And the happiest of all…
So crux my fine ladies keep smiling
Don’t fret never frown, eat your cake
Any man will be at your feet.
Men of Interest are no mystery
Any more…