The Fooferaw

   
The Fooferaw

“A lollapalooza!” he announced, while opening wide his eyes.
That sockdolager knocked us out.  Then everyone nodded, “Yes!”
Except for two (who always were at odds with others there).
“It's catawampus!” one declared, “A puzzle most profound!”
“A hornswoggle!” the other spat.  He shook his head and frowned.
“Oh what a fooferaw it’s been!  But now I'm getting out!”

2015 July 30th, Thu. 1:04 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
    
Source:  http://dictionary.reference.com/slideshows/sevenwacky#lollapalooza
     

The Pretty Little Pussy

The Pretty Little Pussy
 
I met, upon my way from work, a pretty little pussy.
It's fur was dark as midnight and was sprinkled so with stars!
I stopped to stroke that pussy but it jumped up in the air
And zipped across the street. Right then, there weren't any cars.

"Oh pretty little pussy!" I called to it aloud,
And made all kinds of noises – but that pussy ran away.
And so I walked home slowly and I wondered if I'd see
That pretty little pussy on the street another day.

But as I turned the corner to my house, what did I see?
A big and ugly bow-wow dog that barked aloud at me!
I felt a little frightened, for that dog was big and fierce.
But still I kept on walking and I hid away my fears.

But then the dog quit barking and instead it ran at me!
I stood for just a second. Then I ran, like one-two-three!
I ran and ran and looked behind and saw the dog had turned.
I waited till it disappeared.  A lesson, I had learned!

The moral?  With a pussy, you should wait for it to come.
If the pussy gets to like you, then it might become your chum.
But if you see a doggie that is barking, don't advance.
For that doggie then could chase you, and could bite you in your pants.
 
January 20th, Tue, 9:03 pm
Brooklyn, New York
  

Kiwi and the Little Frog

  
Kiwi and the Little Frog

Kiwi and the little frog

 














In a country far away that yet is very near,
There lived a girl called Kiwi who had vision sharp and clear.
And once, when she was walking, she saw, upon a tree,
A little frog was sitting – and calling out in fear.

“Oh what is it you’re fearful of?” asked Kiwi of the frog.
“Is it Mew, the kit-cat?   Or is it Woof, the dog?"
“Oh thank you!  It is neither.  I climbed upon the tree
To see how I could get back to my home that’s in the bog.

“But where that bog is hiding, I’m afraid I cannot see.
I’ve looked to west and eastward and south towards the sea.
And in the north there’s mountains.  But nowhere is that bog.
And I’m afraid of falling from high upon this tree.”

“Oh don’t you worry, little frog, whose name I do not know.
I know just where that bog is – it’s where it was before.
It’s there, behind the trees there.  I’ll climb up on this tree
And bring you down.  And then, from here, your way to home, I’ll show.”

So Kiwi climbed upon the tree.  She showed no trace of fear.
She brought that little froggie down, she’d seen with vision clear.
And then she showed the way for it to hop towards its home.
“I’m Kiwi.  You?”   “Oh thank you!  I am Ngaak – and you’re a dear.” 

So Kiwi helped that little frog called Ngaak and went her way.
And on the path she’d shown him, Ngaak then hopped and hopped away,
Until at last he neared the bog and heard the frogs there croaking.
“Oh there you are!”  His sister said.  “I’ve looked for you all day!”
  
2014 December 26th, Fri.
Brooklyn, New York
 

The Yeti and Me

The Yeti and Me

the yeti and me

I met with a yeti on a sunshiny day.
It could have been April, it could have been May.
“Good morning, dear Yeti!” I said to the hulk.
He gave me a grunt, for the sun made him sulk.
 
“Good morning!” I said, to the yeti, once more.
He grunted more loudly than he’d grunted before.
“Good sunshine to you, dear Yeti, my friend!”
And I saw that his patience was now at an end.
  
He grunted and snorted and came after me.
My smile, it was frozen. I started to flee.
With a leap and a bound, I jumped in a stream.
And I woke with a gasp from this weird little dream.
 
*****
   
Now humans like sun, when the weather is cold.
But the yetis like shade, as we should have been told.
So on days when it’s sunny, be very discrete
‘Round Yetis, who’re sulking because of the heat.
 
And whether in waking, or what’s only a dream,
Do stand by a tree or be close to a stream,
For if yetis approach, who are madder than hell,
That tree or that stream could serve you right well.
 
For everyone knows that the yetis can’t swim –
And of those who climb trees, the numbers are slim.
If the yeti is grown and is heavy, then why –
You’ll be safe in a tree, if you climb up on high.
 
2014 December 23rd, Fri.
Brooklyn, New York
  

The Tale of Pumpkin Grand

  
The Tale of Pumpkin Grand
 
In the land of the rivers five,
And that between the two,           \1
You’ll hear the elders tell this tale
To kids – and puppies too.

And baby goats will gather ‘round
And try to hear it right.
But these will often wander off,
As puppies also might.

The puppies, they will cock their heads
As the children look astonished,
And the elders tell the story of
The Pumpkin that was banished.

“There was a time, when Veggies, Fruits
Were placed above us men.
And dogs and goats were also low
And Fruits were highest then.

“In Dilli, in a time now past,
A line of Mangoes ruled.
So Mangoes then were royalty,
As children then were schooled.

“For though the Veggies were, by far,
In number, more than Fruits,
The Fruits were cleverer – and led
By Mangoes, ruled the ‘Brutes’.

“For that was what the Fruits then called
The Vegetables all.
And strangely, Veggies long endured
This thing, as men recall.

“And many cities of our times
Existed, even then.
But each was built with palaces
For Fruits – and not for men.

“And Veggies too had quarters there
But some of these were slums.
The Veggies – they were workers then,
Though some of them were bums.

“But then, in Agra and in Oudh,
And in the west, Lahore,
A clan of fighting Pumpkins rose
To power, seeking more.

“ ‘The Fruits have ruled for long,’ they said.
‘It’s now the Veggies’ turn.’
With zest and zeal, they spread the word
And did, with ardor, burn.

“And though the Mangoes tried, in vain,
To quell the rising tide,
The Pumpkins marched, in ordered rows
And columns long and wide.

“And by their side, in allied ranks,
Some other Veggies too
Did march along, while singing songs
And making cry and hue.

“The Cabbages and Mustard Greens,
The Spinaches and others,
They marched and sang, “We're Veggies all!
We drink of Sun as brothers!”

“And Carrots came – and even Plums
And other rebel Fruits
Who hated Mangoes, joining ranks,
For once, with all the ‘Brutes’.

“And Dilli, then, to Pumpkins fell,
With Mangoes roundly squashed.
In every town, the Fruits switched sides,
With those resisting quashed.

“But though the Mangoes long had ruled,
They had a fragrance sweet.
And Mango-kings had manners still,
And sense to be discreet.

“And though they did extract the tax,
They gave, to Veggies, gifts.
‘A petty favor, costing naught,
A canny king uplifts.’

“But Pumpkins, they were rough and rude –
A bumpkin, yokel lot.
They quarreled loudly in the streets
And on the rooftops fought.

“And when a subject could not give
The ‘rent’ that then was due,
They beat him soundly and they left
Him then to Pumpkins rue.

“So Dilli suffered several years
Of Pumpkins’ sad misrule.
And though his subjects bowed to him,
They called their king a fool.

“For he was such a Pumpkin as
Had never, past, been seen.
Some whispered he was ‘monstrous’, while
The others hissed ‘obscene’.

“Now men and goats and dogs could be
Both small and big in sizes.
But when it comes to Pumpkin – those
May sometimes spring surprises.

“For ‘Pumpkin Grand’ his title was,
And he was grand of girth.
The Vegetables, Fruits and men
Gave him the widest berth.

“When Pumpkin Grand would roll around,
The others ran for life.
The largest Mango-maid, he’d tried
To make his newest wife.

“But sadly, he had crushed her sore
Upon their wedding day.
To hospital, they’d taken her,
And there she'd lain till May.

“No other Manga would consent     \2
To wed the Pumpkin Grand.
The king's frustration, it was great.
He would not understand.

“ ‘I want a Mango-maid for wife.
No Melon, Squash will do!
If those before had Mango-queens,
So must this Pumpkin too!’

“The Mangoes were a clever lot.
They whispered and they hid.
They watched the Pumpkins’ stew-pot cook
And weighted down the lid.

“And so, when Pumpkin Grand’s mistakes
And Pumpkin-Lessers’ fights
Had taxed and tired the subjects sore,
They gathered close at nights.

“And there, with Mangoes as their guides,
They plotted, planned a strike.
The Cantaloupes, from Rajasthan,
To Dilli then did hike.

“For these were Fruits and Veggies both,
From both the sides descended.
And with their cousin Pumpkins, most
Of them were discontented.

“And be they Fruits or Veggies, those
Who couldn’t Pumpkins bear,
Towards Dilli also rolled – and vied 
For place in front or rear.”

The elders, at this point, would rise,
And clearing throats, would sing.
And children, puppies, goats would join
So all the air would ring.

“And so, in annals, it’s recorded,
The army grew to giant size.
And younger Fruits and Veggies joined,
Despite the qualms of elders wise.

“Upon that host of 'Fruits and Brutes’,
Assembled, in a motley crew,
The clouds that passed did sprinkle rain,
As the rebel army grew and grew.

“And by that sprinkled rain refreshed,
The Fruits and Veggies vowed to win
The throne of Dilli, from the king,
Whose place on it, they deemed a sin.”

And seated once again, they’d wave,
To puppies, kids and goats,
To stop their yelps and baas and all
Their other high-pitched notes.
  
“ ‘If sugar be the thing that makes
A Veggie be a Fruit,
Then Beets should side with Mangoes in
This battle with that Brute.’

“With whisperings like these, the Fruits
Fomented the rebellions.
And so, towards the city, troops
Of rebels rolled in millions.

“And some said, 'No! The Fruits are meant
By Nature, to be eaten.
But beasts and birds who chomp on us,
The Veggies, should be beaten!'
   
“No matter. Pumpkins had aroused,
In all the Plants, such ire,
That when the Mangoes roused them more,
It seemed they'd caught on fire.

“The Cucumbers, from East and West,
The Gourds, of various kinds,
And others trekked to Dilli, both
Of tough and tender rinds.

“From South and East came Tamarinds.
The Apples came from North.
And Plantains and Bananas wild
From forests issued forth.

“Upon the Aravalli hills,
Among the thorny trees,
They gathered all, below the stars,
And waited for the breeze.

“For some of them had fragrances
That carried in the wind,
So even flies in the Punjab
Could scent the fruits in Sindh.

“But Neems, with Curry Leaves, conspired
To hide the army's scent.
And so they waited in those hills,
Preparing for descent.

“And when the breeze had turned to blow
From Dilli towards those hills,
They slid towards that city, as
The water, hollows fills.

“And at the most opportune time,
When Pumpkins all were snoring,
The Fruits and Veggies struck as one,
With Beets and Eggplants roaring.

“And though the Pumpkins, when aroused
From slumber, tried to fight,
They one by one were tied to beds.
It seemed a glorious night.

“And some of those embittered joked
At Pumpkins lying tied,
‘We’ll leave you in the summer sun
Until you all have dried.’

“But Pumpkin Grand, he would not yield.
He rolled about like thunder.
And those, who saw him coming, fled
Or froze, in awestruck wonder.

“But then, the Onions devised,
With help from Garlic Cloves,
A way to quell the Pumpkin Grand,
By jumping him in droves.

“He could not stand the Onions’ scent
Or that of Garlics strong.
He struggled for a while, then fell
To sleep – and snoring long.

“They could not drag him to the Court,
So heavy was his weight.
The Judge, arriving as he slept,
Did read to him his fate.

“ ‘Oh Pumpkin, known for your misrule,
And for the one you wed
And almost squished to pulp, we find
You snoring, by your bed.

“ ‘But though you snore (and loudly too),
Your sentence, it is this:
To China, you are banished, there
To do as you may wish.’

“And when the Pumpkin woke, he found
Himself upon a wagon,
With ropes tied down, on a caravan
To the land of the Dancing Dragon.

“And whether he got safely there
Or not, we do not know.
But rumor has, that China still
Is where Bad Pumpkins go.

“And with the Pumpkin clan dispersed,
In Dilli, there was calm,
Though winters still were far too cold
And summers far too warm.

“And subjects still begrudged the tax
That some would call 'the rent'.
A few resisted.  Most gave in,
With sun and seed content.

“And in what form that rent was paid
And why it then was needed,
We men, who then had little say,
We never knew or heeded.

“But later, we were told, by kings,
That taxes were the rule,
And even Fruits and Veggies paid,
When Man was just a Fool.

“For all of this was long before
We men, of monkey-kind,
With help of dogs, from jackals bred
And wolves, did stature find.

“But here’s the twist. Though Mangoes schemed
To end the Pumpkins’ rule,
The Radishes rose in their stead,
As you will learn at school.

“And Radish-Strong in turn was felled,
By the Custard-Apples fooled.
And so again, by Fruits with wits,
The Veggies all were ruled…

“But that’s another story. Though
In Dilli, Pumpkins ended,
The Son of Pumpkin Grand became
A big and fearsome bandit!

“No, no, enough!  You’ve heard enough.
It’s time to go and play.
We can’t be telling you these tales
All through the heat of day.”

You’ll see the elders rise and stretch,
As puppies play in threes
And children, laughing, try to climb
Upon the guava trees.

And baby goats will seek out leaves
To nibble, as they do,
Not knowing Lettuces once ruled
And might, in the future, too.

And monkeys, seeing children try
To climb the guava tree,
Will throw at them the stunted fruits
That kids can have for free.

2014 May 10th, Sat. 8:45 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York 

1.  The references in the first stanza are to the Panj-aab 
and the Doh-aab.  These regions are usually spelled 
"Punjab" and "Doab". Their names come from the Farsi  
(Persian) words for five (panj), two (doh) and water (aab, 
cognate to Latin aqua, here meaning "river").

If one descends from the mountains that lie to the northwest
of the Punjab plains, one first encounters the Indus (Sindhu)
river, flowing south. Crossing that river and traveling east,
one meets in turn the five rivers of the Punjab: the Jhelum, 
Chenab, Ravi, Beas and Sutlej.   

  
All of these flow southwest to join with the Indus, of which 
they are tributaries. The Indus flows south, passing next
through Sindh and then into the Arabian Sea. So the Punjab 
region may be thought of as the northern part of the Indus 
plain or valley.

Crossing the easternmost river of the Punjab (the Sutlej) and 
traveling further southeast, one enters the Doab, the land 
between the Yamuna (Jamuna) and the Ganges (Ganga) 
rivers (the light blue and dark blue watercourses in the map 
below).  This region is a western section of the Gangetic plain, 
in which the main flow is southeast to the Bay of Bengal.  

  




















  
(You can click on the map above to see slightly enlarged 
views of that map and the other maps here. Hit the back 
arrow in your browser to return to the post.)

Although this is the specific region most often referred to as the 
Doab in the Indian context, the general term doab can also be 
applied to any region between two rivers. So parts of the Punjab,
lying between two of its rivers, are also known as doabs, with
qualifiers to distinguish them. The Rechna Doab between the 
Chenab and Ravi rivers is one such region.

 














2. Female Mangoes were, at that time, called Mangas.  If you're
wondering how Fruits managed to have genders, then you should
wonder even more about all the other strange things in this story.
Yet, they are all absolutely true.  If you don't believe any of it, go
ask a Cucumber.

Chips

  
Chips
  
Oh don’t be frightened, little child!
Let squirrels do what squirrels do.
He likes the nuts – and though he's wild,
That squirrel won’t be biting you.

Oh yes, I’m old, as you can see.
And these are chips – for young and old,
But not for you and not for me.
And there’s a story to be told.

You want me to tell you the story, dear?
The story then it‘ll have to be.
So sit over there, where you can hear
And listen quietly to me.

No, no!  The chips are not for us!
Do listen. Then you’ll find out why.
I don’t like kids who make a fuss.
So sit.  And chase away that fly.

I met a statue in the park.
I asked him how he came to be.
And as the sky was growing dark,
This is what he said to me.

“I once could walk about like you.
But there were  times when I was glum.
I wondered, what I then should do,
Until I met an old-time chum."

What's 'glum'? It's when you're feeling sad.
And 'chum'? A chum's a pal, a friend.
And some are good and some are bad.
Some friendships last – and others end. 

But listen – listen till the end!
Listen, as he heard his friend.

“He whispered in my ear, ‘My friend,
Chips are better when they’re fried.
And now, your sadness, it will end.
I know – because this cure, I’ve tried.

“ ‘So hasten to the park. You’ll see
A cloud on high, and that’s a sign,
And then, a tall and spreading tree.
A squirrel, next.  And you’ll be fine.’ "

What's 'hasten'?  That's to hurry, run,
Like when you've got to catch the bus.
Now listen quietly, little one!
I don't like kids who make a fuss.

“I hurried to the park in haste.
I wondered if I’d see the cloud.
I wondered too, how chips would taste
If they were fried.  I wondered loud.

“The elders in my way, they stared
And gave me then a wider berth.
But younger folk were there, who dared
To point and then express their mirth."

What's 'berth'? It's this. And 'mirth'? It's when
You smile and laugh. The kids, ahem,
Were smiling, pointing, laughing then.
And why?  They joked and laughed at him.

But let us continue. He said, 

“But little did I care. I neared
The park, and saw a patch of sky.
And sure enough, within that blue,
A little cloud was sailing high!

“I cracked a smile when I saw the cloud.
I smiled yet wider at the tree.
The squirrel made me laugh out loud.
With which of these could I disagree?

“And when a bird did doo-doo on
My head, I rolled around in fits.
And who then murmured, “He is gone.”?
The ones, who thought I’d lost my wits."

What's 'fits'? That's when you do like so.
What's 'wits'?  That's sense. We all need more
Yes. It's funny. You can giggle.
But listen. Sit – and stop that wriggle!

“I did a handstand, waved my legs,
Did a cartwheel ‘round the park.,
Saw a pigeon, brooding eggs,
Heard a puppy try to bark.

“The more I saw, the more I heard,
The more I laughed, until I cried.
And this I did, when I got word
That chips are better, when they’re fried.

“ 'They taste much better, fried, than raw!
The smell is better too, you’ll see!'
These things, I shouted.  Then, the law
Appeared.  And they were after me.

“But I was clever, I was fast!
I zoomed around the park, I zoomed!
But woe!  My freedom did not last.
They called in jaybirds.  I was doomed.

“But one of those was known to me.
He perched upon my shoulder and
He whispered. “Like a statue, be.”
And so I did, and so l stand.”

On hearing this, I shed a tear,
And wiping it, I blew my nose.
And in that statue’s hand, my dear,
I left a red and thorny rose.

So you have listened, understood.
See the cloud? And see the tree?
And there’s your squirrel. You’ve been good.
And there’s the statue. Can you see?

Now come with me and we will find
That statue there, with rose in hand.
These chips?  I hope you do not mind.
But they’re for him.  You understand?

He likes the chips, that statue there.
I’ve heard he likes the children too.
No, not for eating!  No, his fare
Is chips.  He’ll munch on those, not you.

What’s wrong – and why do you run away?
The kids today are really weird!
They’re frightened, in the light of day,
By those like me, without a beard!

2014 April 12th, Sat.
Brooklyn, New York   
    

My Dream

My Dream  
                        
When I grow up, I would like to be
The man who picks up the garbage.

Early in the morning, when everyone's asleep,
I would ride on the back of the garbage truck
And would hop off to pick up the garbage.

I would lift up the bags and throw them,
I would bang on the metal cans.
And some of the sleepers would wake up
And some would mutter and curse.
And the smell of the rotting garbage
Would fill up the morning air.

And then I would call to the driver –
And the truck, it would move with a roar.
I'd hop on that truck.  To the next one,
With that noise and that smell, we would go.

And that is my dream, Mr. Teacher,
The dream that you asked me to write.
I hope that you'll give me a 100.
What you gave me before wasn't fair.

My dream is to pick up the garbage,
To join with the garbage men.
I've heard that they're paid good money,
And the smell washes off when they shower...

My dream is to pick up the garbage,
To be a garbage man.
But I'm told that it it isn't easy.
I really hope I can.

The jobs nowadays aren't many.
My father's unemployed...

I hope that I'll get a paycheck,
And be married too, with kids...

Do you think, if I do all my classwork,
And my homework, every day,
And I pass all those tests you give us,
My dream will come real, one day?

2013 August 16th, Fri.
Brooklyn
 

The Stranger

The Stranger

Come, and I'll tell you a story,

As this is a rainy day.

Sit, and I'll tell you a story,

And the rain will go away.

******

 

In a village, once, by the ocean,

As the stormy season neared,

As the villagers stood near the ocean,

A strange little man appeared.

And the mothers and fathers and children,

Who were gathered there, by the sea,

Wondered, how, out of nowhere,

That stranger came to be.

And the bachelors and spinsters questioned,

As bachelors and spinsters do,

If the stranger who'd come was married

Or still was a bachelor too.

And the widowers there, and the widows,

They all had their questions, yes.

But none had the courage to ask him,

Though several attempted to guess.

But he walked by the gawkers in silence

And he never said a word.

But he stopped, as he was walking,

To shoo away a bird.

******

And every day, for a fortnight,

They would see him walking there.

And though they all were curious,

To greet him, none would dare.

For the villagers all were fearful

Of the ghosts and goblins 'round.

So they'd watch him walk in silence,

And they rarely made a sound.

But they'd note the way he was walking

And the way that he looked as he walked.

And some believed he was human,

But at greeting him, they balked.

He walked with his beard and his belly,

He walked with a waddling walk.

And the mothers, who saw him walking,

They talked their mothers' talk.

He walked by the side of the ocean,

He walked by the side of the sea.

And the fathers, who saw him walking,

Asked, “Who the heck is he?”

And the bachelors there and the spinsters,

And the widows and widowers too,

They would look at each other and whisper,

“Is he like me and you?”

He walked in the evening and morning,

He walked in the noonday sun.

And the children, who saw him walking,

To see him close, would run...

******

But the mothers would hiss out loudly,

And the fathers would growl out stern,

And the children, who'd been running,

Would stop and would return.

They wondered where he came from,

They wondered where he went.

Three miles to the neighboring village,

No lodgings, there, to rent...

But they weren't bred to be curious,

Those villagers down by the sea.

They'd bless themselves when they saw him,

And then they'd let him be.

He walked by the side of the ocean,

He walked in the sun and rain.

He looked at the waves on the ocean

And he looked at them again.

He walked with a cane that he carried

And he tapped with the cane on the ground.

The watchers could hear him walking

With a softly tapping sound.

Tap-tapety-tap, 

Tap-tap-tap.

Tap-tapety-tap, 

Tap-tap-tap...

And he always walked in silence,

As he never said a word.

But he'd stop, as he was walking,

To shoo away a bird.

******

On a day that was wild and stormy,

A ship had come sailing by.

And all of the village was fearful

That the sailors all would die.

And along came the man with the belly

And the beard and the tapping cane.

And he walked to a seaside jetty,

In the wind and whipping rain.

He stood by the sea, on the jetty,

And he waved, in the air, his cane.

And he almost lost his footing

But he waved it high again.

He stood by the sea, on the jetty,

And he loudly yelled out, “Shoo!”

And he waved his cane at the ocean

As a crazy man would do.

And as they were watching the madman,

As the villagers thought he was,

They all said, “Ooh!  What happened?”

And they said this loud, because...

The wind, it had died, of a sudden,

And the ocean, it was calm.

The clouds had fled, with their raining.

And the sun was shining warm...

The sails on the ship were drooping

On a calm and glassy sea.

There wasn't a wave on the ocean,

As far as eye could see...

******

They stared in their awe and amazement,

They scratched on their heads and behinds.

They turned up their palms and made noises.

They asked, “Are we out of our minds?”

And the man with the beard and the belly

And the waddling walk and the cane,

He walked by the side of the ocean

And he tapped the ground with his cane...

They could see that his belly was shaking.

They could hear him laughing loud.

And the children ran towards him,

In a cheering, yelling crowd.

But just as that crowd was approaching

The man with the belly and beard,

He twirled his cane in a circle

And he turned and disappeared.

And that is the end of the story,

Whether you like it or not,

Because, the rest of the story,

Your grandpa has forgot...

******

But go, look out through the window,

And go and stand by the door.

And you'll see that the sun is shining.

So go and play some more...

2013 July 9th, Tue.
(with a few stanzas inserted July 12th, Fri.)
Brooklyn

Strange Encounter -- II

              
Strange Encounter -- II
             
I met my mates the other night, down at the local pub,
It was our weekly gathering, it was our social hub.
My wife had told me earlier, "Do not carouse till late!
I want you home tonight, my dear, to eat with mom, at eight!"

But I had had a bit too much, of public house's ale,
And did my pals, with stories loud and boisterous, regale.
And when I realized, alas, that I was running late,
I took a short cut (so I thought) as it was well past eight.

And as I wandered homeward, why, I seemed to turn about,
And all was turning, as I turned, and I began to shout.
But sadly, no one answered -- and so, I silent fell.
And all around was silence -- and dark as bloody hell.

I felt, of sudden weary, and leaned upon a tree.
And shut my eyes for just a bit, to be, of tiredness, free...
And when I opened eyes again, I felt so much refreshed,
I set off striding jauntily, by my own self impressed...

But then, as I was striding, I looked around and saw
An unfamiliar setting that filled me with some awe.
It was a sylvan wilderness -- with starlight it was lighted.
It was a little frightening -- and yet I felt delighted.

For this, I sensed, was where I'd been, a long long time ago,
And this, I knew, was where they were, the ones who were no more,
The fairies and the pixies and the goblins and the trolls
And all the little beings who had played their little roles.

In the middle of that forest, where the fairies gather 'round,
I heard a soft and eerie, yet a joyful kind of sound.
It was midnight, it was moonless -- and through the silent dark,
I heard that gentle throbbing -- and to its sound did hark.

And on glimpsing, in the distance, a strange and ghostly glow,
I hurried, heart pulsating, determined, then, to know
From where and why this throbbing, from where and why this light,
That gave me trepidation -- and filled me with delight.

And then I saw a clearing -- and through it shone a star
That hypnotized me, briefly, with twinkling light afar.
And when I shut and opened -- my eyes, by star enthralled,
I saw the small ones dancing, as other wee ones called.

Oh surely they were graceful, oh surely they trod light,
But they were more than graceful, they were a wondrous sight.
I saw then, lanterns glowing, as summer glow-worms glow.
And other lights were moving, in midnight firefly show.

I heard the sound grow louder and then appear to fade,
Until I heard but silence -- and felt again afraid.
But then, like chorus rising, I heard the calls begin
And knew that they were gentle, untouched by worldly sin.

It was the sound of water, it was the sound of breeze,
It was a gentle murmur that set my heart at ease.
I floated on that rising, I drifted on that ebb,
To sound I did surrender, ensnared in woven web.

How long that seance lasted, I really do not know.
I woke at dawn's arrival, as east began to glow.
And then, I wandered homeward, to scolding from my spouse,
Who thought, perhaps, her chosen was just a drunken louse.

What matter? I just kissed her -- and roundly, on both cheeks,
And bounded past to mattress, the one that loudly squeaks.
And there I fell like timber, to dream again in wonder,
To see again that dancing in that uncertain yonder...

Babui / Arjun
2011 November 18th, Friday, 9:30 pm
Brooklyn