Mysterious melody
poetry, satire, sensual, woman

Madam Neverhurry’s Mysterious Malady

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)

 

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wind's tale
Humour, Literature, Nature, poetry, satire, wit,

Storm of Lifetime

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)

 

 

feminine, Humour, Love, Nature, poetry

A Man Of Interest

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…