Yes, Yes, I know I missed a deadline last week! But then I am free and I love the sound of deadlines whooshing by! I could not enjoy that sound for a major part of my life! So here goes my poem about a tough, straightforward one-of-a-kind boss (why do we always remember them the most?) and a colleague with wedding-dress blues!
TERMINAL
WOMAN
She gazes out her window and breakfasts on
broken glass.
Know not when things came to such a frightful
pass.
With that diet, she yet does not attain
critical mass,
Nonetheless, she consumes with that certain
touch of class!
She conducts human sacrifice by the light of
the full moon,
And
we will all meet our comeuppance very soon.
It’s too late now to repent, beg mercy or
make amends,
We have to swallow bitter medicine that, on
her largess, depends!
At the meeting, thumping the table, she had
her say,
We had a lot to answer and hell lot more to
pay,
Besides, she was having a rather bad hair
day,
Poor Rudy jumped out of his skin and out of
her way!
Hold on! In your hands hold not your head in
despair,
Seize the day and for the onslaught prepare,
Although she does display virtue beyond
compare,
Alas! Alack! Those moments are woefully rare!
Fat-Free Fionna
She woke up one maudlin Monday
morn,
Feeling sad, desolate
and forlorn.
It’s not fair, birds in
the trees are merrily twitting
While this gorgeous,
glorious dress is not fitting.
Her jaw she set in dour,
determined fashion,
And rushed to the gym
with renewed passion.
Treadmill miles, bench
presses, diet food, the works,
No half-measures, no
short-cuts, only full fat-free perks!
She dreamed, driving
down the New Jersey Turnpike,
By her side, her silent
man, her lucky strike.
Rainy days, traffic
jams, warm people, warmer climes,
Nostalgia clouds her
vision as she ponders the good times.
Late evening, at my
window, streams the reluctant sun
Setting aflame memory-filled
motes of dust, the joy, the fun!
And pondering this life
of diamonds and rust,
I remember the little
girl who belligerently fed me sawdust!
Antonio
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