Of morning gulls and worms

Step aside please,
The white gull has caught a worm
you can read this face sideways too
the eager eyes are not transfixed
onto your unshaven chin
rather the batting eyelashes are battling myopic
bus numbers on the map behind you
that proud curve of the red lips fascinating you-
a mere hand -me -down relic
from a long dead grandmother
passed on after years of vigorous use.
But can’t wait and explain things further
I need to see if my gull is still there
then I must catch a bus too
do read the ‘not available’ blurb on the cover
close your mouth too.
© Reena Prasad 9th Jan 2013

Two for joy

Been mulling over inane love stories- real and bollywood and this is what results 🙂

Two for joy

Two tigers lie
outside a log cabin
licking paws, scratching themselves
amiable in the sunlight
till they spot her at the window
tips of their tails twitch and jerk
the thought runs around
who gets the prey?
the one who loves her
or the one she loves
her fate the same either way.
©Reena Prasad 10th Jan 2013

Order cannot laugh

They sat in neat lines

heads turned towards the left

sitting as they were put




that wriggled its bottom

twiddled its thumbs 

rocked on its bum

and created a disarray

forcing the tidy ones

to rearrange themselves

around the mess

in a bid to hide

the chaos

and the sore thumb

laughed secretly

then out loud

and was still laughing

when they threw it out

and formed a new order.

© Reena Prasad 18th Nov 2012

Catching flies

I do catch them
just like my mother did
I did not know why she didn’t just swat them
with the blue plastic swatter
when I was small.
Now I do not have a swatter
And my little girl tells our friends proudly
“No one can catch a house fly
better than Mummy”.
As I freeze in my tracks
my hand cupped, to catch a stray one,
in the moments it takes to settle on the gas knob,
I write another poem
or analyze why I do not want
a fly’s blood on my kitchen floor
and a smashed carcass
on a rolled newspaper,
why I respect its freedom
to live and fly about,
why I grab it from my space
and hurl it out
of the window
into another’s space.

©Reena Prasad 31st oct 2012

10:10 am November

10:10 in the morning

of another November

October hangs upon the wall

Waiting to be turned

but too inanimate to do it itself


No one told the sparrows

They are probably still a month back

trying to stretch out their lives


The potted plant too doesn’t know

Nothing in the way it leans upon

the centre support

or the way its tendrils droop

indicates that it cares


Must get up and do it myself then

Turn October into November

as if it will change my air

©Reena Prasad 1st November 2012

Making lists

Making lists
so one might not forget the names
of objects so familiar
that they cannot be remembered
without making lists.

Making lists so that one might sleek down
the ruffled feathers
the ones that were ruffled
while making lists.

Making lists
so that they might remember
to feel happier and feel loved
who were remembered
while making lists.
©Reena Prasad
26th May 2012

The FB Stalker

“Be not affronted at a joke.

If one throw salt at thee,

thou wilt receive no harm,

unless thou art raw.”

~Oliver Goldsmith

Prayer: “May God keep us from meeting one or becoming one”

The FB stalker 

He is ‘friends’ with all the lovely ladies on screen
Making them fall for his self-pitying humour and eager beam.
He rushes everywhere at once pacifying them all
He”likes ” your every  outpouring barely reading a word at all.
Remains on top of your friend list, yet you hardly know him
You keep getting his notifications, even when you restrict him.
His weird messages make your hair stand on end in a shivering bout.
He comments on last year photos, you have forgotten about.
He sends messages strange, to every possible victim
Beware..he lurks behind every tag, clingier than a leech’s bloody bin
Do not click the “accept” box, his evil grin lurks inside.
If you meet him online, just pretend to be rude and blind
He stands just outside your window, waiting for any minute sign.
He is Your FB  stalker, a creepy crawlie online.

-Reena Prasad

(loosely adapted from 7 signs of being stalked on FB)

Love letter

A bird on my window-sill
he flutters her tiny wings
uried under the chewed cud of time
A paper flutters into the present frame

A letter thrust into teenage hands
Unwilling to take any casual blame
The writing neat but almost Greek
I still struggle to read the name. 

Flabbergasted, I slowly realised
Trembling under the sudden onslaught.
It was a love letter from the school wrestler
The shock arrested my carefree thoughts. 

The grass was green, the cows content
Yet a hungry one sauntered near the cycle shed
efore I could act, a long, rasping tongue wrapped
and swallowed my first love letter, still unread.

The decision taken for me by the grazing angel
to let childhood linger for a longer page
Yet I wonder what if he had written in English
not in my ‘consistently failing’  third language.
Reena Prasad

The human fly on me!

Written for the picture prompt at bluebellbooks

“A disgruntled cowboy horse poem -I had fun turning tables .
Forgive me John Wayne and fans, it’s only a fun fable “

The human fly on me !


He sits on me as if I am a chair

digging  thorny hooves into my belly bare

His tight pants are surely starting to hurt

under his unwashed ‘n’ stinkin’  pink shirt.

Long, coiled ropes (here I smirk ‘n’ neigh)

perhaps to hang himself one fine day.

I have had enough of his jiggling bum

bouncing about, clutching a smoking gun.

Little does he know, the swaggering fool

thinking himself to be pretty cool

Doesn’t he know I have not been fed

and another gun-totting, smoking fly lurks ahead?

He is very soon going to land up dead

with that funny plate still  on his head!


For the prompt at Thursday Think-tank “Chocolate”

Image from amazingonly.com


Remember our surreptitious rendezvous when
you were my sister’s best friend?
I liked you immensely then though
some misguided scruples kept us apart.
Fifteen years later now I have no such qualms
The health club no longer exists and
I am convinced that round is a shape.
Though I have serious competition from nubile things,
I keep you deep in the freezer of my heart and home
When my ever-suspicious husband goes to work
and the kids have been packed off to school,
loneliness strikes and I crave your molten touch.
I seek you out and though my waist is no longer shapely
Nothing holds me back from sampling your ample delights
When passion has been sated, I vow to be good again
till the next time…
And then the prompt turns up
There you are in your silken, brown glory
covering a naked lady
and I succumb to temptation