Tag: balconies

VERSE | BIRDS

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, verse, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment 
I’d become an avid bird lover
Since the pandemic hit my town
Ere I never could relate except
As a beholder looking on

But then this pair of mynahs
Intrepid little things
Well one was bravheart, the other a mass
Of nervous fluttering 

Decided that my balcony 
Was a good place for some treats
So they would pay me visits 
For some raisins and some cheese

I came to home number two
Carrying my avian love with me
Cooing pigeons in all forms
There frequented my balcony

Their rolling gait, their gentle sounds
Quite stole my heart away
And so I wooed them as they cooed
Treat-luring them everyday 

By and by the guileful birds 
Dropped their adorable avatar
My chairs and tables were endowed 
With their organic pockmarks

Now gently I admonish them
When they flap into my home
But they think I’m requesting more
Of their nitrogen-rich guano

I’m now a not so avid fan
Of the expelling, flying flock
My OCD has on my glee quite
Turned back the blessed clock.
The parents had brought their fledgelings to my home a second time. A bit of a soft initiation into the real world 🌸

VERSE | IN THE SHADOWS OF NIGHT-TIME

On By Mahvash K. M.In balconies, poetry, verse, writing6 Comments 
LISTEN TO THE POEM BEING READ AT: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSdaYMvKB/
I’m looking out through my balcony door
The glass gleaming - I never miss that 
That sheen itself is a pleasure to see
The gloss, the shine makes my heart glad 

Then I look outside at the city lights 
Some glimmering others sunny bright 
I look beyond at the skyline that now 
Boasts a few high rises above the eighth floor 

My mind telescopes into some homes 
But please hold that thought, don’t let it roam! 
It’s not a voyeuristic enterprise of the mind
It’s reading the drive behind the grind 

What makes that man who lives alone
In a one room apartment on the third floor 
Wake up day after day after day?
What makes him go out his front door?

What special dreams has he woven with time?
Which ones has he decided to leave behind?
Is the light in his eyes still glowing bright 
Or is he just stolidly marking time?

That woman who is holding down 
Two jobs in two different parts of town 
What is she hurrying and scouring for? 
What makes her oblivious to her aches and her sores?

That young boy barely into his teens 
His moustache is yet to take place of state 
On his young, adolescent face 
What is he doing out on the steets so late?

The young girl who sits up late by herself
Stitching joras* that must go on the shelf
Of an elite boutique. Do her dreams still speak?
Or are they now mute wraiths of themselves?

In the pit of my stomach lies a spot of guilt 
The quickening of my heart tells me the truth 
Of the relentless grind, the killer odds 
But I tell myself - what can you possibly do …

The gleaming door now to my back 
I look over my balcony railing this time 
Beyond is a world that is dusty and raw 
My own pleasure wanes in the shadows of night-time
* Jora: In Urdu, a set of clothes, usually shalwar kameeze.