A lovely musical sound is heard From the rainforests of Queensland Also the whirr of an electric saw And the toots and da-dums of a marching band
They’re not the sounds of a jungle party Nor a trumpeter tuning his instrument It’s just the superb lyre bird Showing off his many vocal talents
He can be found in the theatres he builds In the shrubs of his forest abode In which he dances like a prima donna For all the girls in his neighbourhood
He fans out his beautiful tail The girls all watch with interested eyes He’ll then take two steps forward One step back, three to the side
He then goes up to the nearest bird And asks her if she likes his dance If she says “Oh yes I do good sir!” Well, then its the start of a little romance
The superb lyrebird sets out to impress Not one girl but a whole lot of them He’ll sing for up to four hours a day Until every last one is in love with him
Every year he puts up ever more Beautiful acts of song and dance Better and better are his displays As he entertains his special audience
If you ever chance to come across An especially friendly lyre bird Say something to him a few times And he may just say your magic word
Kaboom! Boom! Biff! Biff! Thud! That’s the sound you hear from this stomatopod As she attacks her enemies big and small Breaking them up shells, claws and all
She’s a warrior of an ancient line Fierce and strong is this lass She can punch the living daylights out Of anyone who shows her sass
She has independently roaming eyes Nothing escapes her frightening glare Your friend and you can run and hide Ms. Mantis will follow you each with her stare
Miss Mantis Ali has many friends They even have a secret code Their bodies sparkle in the sun As they dance in their shallow pool homes
She has a cousin whom she loves Who lives in the warm Pacific waters They meet up once in a while And get up to all sorts of fun and laughter
If you ever come very near her home In the warm waters of the Indian ocean She’ll puff out her chest and growl at you And get her boxer mode full on
And there we leave Miss Mantis Ali Of the Mantis Shrimp family Boxing champion of all the oceans Fearless fighter of all the seas.
It is feeling like the world has overcome You body and soul and then some It’s like drowning in a bottomless sea Gasping, gasping, trying to breathe Sputtering, choking reaching for air Crashing, thrashing limbs everywhere It’s feeling the whole world closing in Vision blurring, darkness descending. It’s being sure that many endings are near Of wanting, of living and even of fear It’s feeling the numbness spread like a pall Binding you, blinding you even as you fall Into the swirling, whirling abyss Of dead emotions, of nothingness
It’s finally seeing the smallest of gleams Picking the darkness at its hoary seams Little by little the flicker grows bright Ever so slowly it pierces the night Your leaden heart too warms in the heat Resuming its vital, pulsating beat You rise to the surface on a rip tide You’re thawing and warming on the inside You break the surface of your despair As your throttled lungs fill up with air Gasping, gasping you take in a breath Sputtering and choking you hold on to the thread Of the world coming back within reach Hope on strong wings, has ended the siege
She gathers you up in her healing arms Anointing you with her soothing balms Freeing you, steeling you so that you may walk Another day with strength and love in your heart.
Written amidst the mind-numbing perils of never ending curfew lockdowns. Read at your own mental risk 🤓
Tak taka tak - Tak Tak Kaun hai bhai bata ab tak
CHINA!
CHAI NA girana babu Bari tarpay tarpay tarpay Meri leg not so halkay halkay
Knock knockity! Knock Knock Who’s there, before I click back the lock
ZEBRA!
ZE BRA in France is black or white Practical and just hugging one right And if you feel the added zeal Add some colour, like lilac and teal.
Tap ti tap tap - Tap Tap Who is it? That was a fine rap
LIZARD!
LIZ ‘EARD you call her “mighty stout” You really put your foot in your mouth! She may be big but she’s got style She’ll make you eat your words for a mile
Ding da ding ding- Ding Dong Who is it? Come sing us a song
RHINO! O-O! O…OOOO!
Mr. RAI, NO we will not do this Mrs Rai yes it’s all the craze Rainbow coloured hair for you And I will go for baby blue
Clap de clap clap - Clap Clap Who goes there? Who gives my door a thwack?
‘Tis me MAYNA!
MAY NA bhoolonga MAIN NA bhoolongi My nemesis is bharta de cauliflower And mine is garbanzo beans!
Open the door for salvation Open the door for your soul Who … who’s there? ‘Tis me your moral sense, Call me your conscience No punning, rhyming words here No weighty equations. Just you and me and clarity That’s been lost too long at sea
I’m deaf! I’m deaf! I can’t hear you Ps. I’ve not seen any clarinet either! (Hehe!) So the door stays closed, barred and locked Not opening any windows neither! Go elsewhere, go where you can be heard The (h)earless are quite rampant here Don’t come knockity knocking upon my door Amd I’ll pretend as if you were never here - dear!
For all the girls, and the women young and old, who are made to feel less, inferior or impaired because they have dreams that are different to the ones dreamt up for them by others. May you find the strength and the passion to be you.
Why must I be what I don’t want to be? Why must I change the state of my dreams? Why must I cower in fear of my world? Why must the story of my life stay untold?
Why must I hide myself away? Why must I look behind me always? Why must there always be danger to me? To my spirit, my soul, my mind, my body?
Why can I not laugh out loud when I want? Why must I hide all my joy in my heart? Why can’t I turn my face to the sun? Why must I hide in the shadows you’ve spun?
Why must I bear the ball and chain of these roots? Why must I remain invisible and mute? Why was I born if not to revel In life’s ever cresting and falling swell?
I’m a child of this world, let me roam free Let me think, let me speak, let me be me I’m a creature of this earth, I belong everywhere Let me spread my wings, let me lay my heart bare
Let me be, let me be, just what I want to be Let me dream, let me dream, what I want to dream Let me walk in this world unafraid and kind Let my life tell the story of my heart and my mind.
A tribute to all the young women who are constantly attempting to be bigger than the patriarchal shadows cast upon them. (This is in specific response to the most recent mauling by hundreds of men, of a girl who was making a video on Independence Day at Minar-e-Pakistan – a monument ironically, symbolising freedom and self determination).
There was once an average girl Average I use to disclaim That she was your happy gal next door Not your wild and sassy dame
Not that there’s much wrong with that It’s for those who tend to decry The women greater than their veil Behind which they ought to hide
Hide away from prying eyes Hide away from sin Hide their bodies, hands and feet Hide their existence
The Sin that marches all about Ready to be employed In the lawless caveman hands Of any man or boy
She decided she was bigger than The shadows that cloaked her being She was going to live her life She would do so many things
She already had a fan base She was a minor TikTok star She would post quirky things Of her adventures near and far
And so it was on Freedom Day Full of patriotic zeal That she went to the Minar* To capture the national feel
And there is when it happened The Sin awaiting its Amen Was pulled to its fruition By hundreds of stir-crazed men
Mauled and savaged was that girl Because she had essayed To be more than the sum of her Shadows and opaque veils
And that’s the ominous legacy Our nation tends to bestow On any woman who attempts To spread her wings, to grow.
There was once an average girl She’s as average as she seems In the Rank and file of nameless girls Who’s dreams have been “washed clean”
* Minar: Means “Tower” in Urdu. Here it refers to Minar-e-Pakistan
A satirical take on some of the fairy tales we’ve grown up with. Can you guess each of the four Scary Tales? 🤓
You know I kind of hate you With your magic and your spells Always trying to help folks Always being so swell My father’s on his own trip Marrying yet again I wanted all his attention Now of my existence you’re the bane So I’m going to show you up as The evil step mom in the wings Going to booze and then I’ll snooze And await my Prince Charming
I’ll do you better with my step fam A mother and her progeny! I curse the day I met them The entire simpering family! I’m irked by their sweet faces These step sisters of mine Always minding their Ps and Qs, Dimpling their saccharine smiles. I’ll raise a big fake scandal Of their meanness and their pride Pater will have no choice But to have them thrown outside.
I’m a bit of a peculiar one I loved my solitude Until father brought in New Mom My lonesomeness to loot Always laughing, always nice So gleeful and alive I’d been cringing night and day At her effusive vibe So I plotted insidiously and By and by got myself out I now have my own tower For my tresses and my gout.
You’ve all taken so long to weave Yourselves into this rhyme We got rid of our step mom One bread crumb at a time. She insisted on healthy food And also bushels of love Ugh! No! We wanted none of that So we arranged for witchy stuff Old Dame Crone opened her home To us to live with her Ice cream and pizza off the doors In bed, Twix and Ferrero Rocher!
The old wives tales of mean step moms Are a riot and a half But we are not complaining; No! We’re having the last laugh Princesses and Cinder-gals We’ve all got our own quirks And truth be told, we oft unfold Into audacious jerks These scary tales are the flip side Of the happy ever after Sometimes the cackle that you hear Is our malificent laughter.
Our blue green world has gone to POT Not the stuporous, cheering kind The elating, fascinating kind The happily beclouding kind The angst all a-blurring sort No, all that it certainly is not
But our world has gone to POT Not the souffle baking sort Not the healthy steaming kind Not the chicken tikka fry Nor the chuck roast braising sort No, none of that comforting lot
But our world has gone to POT Not the bowel movement kind The cleansing of the intestines The calming morning ritual kind The 1 kg load lessening sort No, of the closet family it’s not
But our world has gone to POT Moral compass broken down Compassion harder to be found Dignity, serenity, gratefulness Are just so many hollow sounds In the flowing waters of life From cresting fullness back to the ground
Yes, our world has gone to POT Not the stuporous, cheering kind Not the soufflé baking sort Not the morning ritual kind. But the saddening, maddening sort The depressing, disappointing sort The “I’m done with it. Over and out” That’s how our world is going to pot.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 