29 July, 2011

Nasty Cinderella (On Display!)

I don't want to be
Your slave for sure,
I'm not going to sit
Near the cinders no more.

Washing and cleaning,
I'm sick of these duties.
If I do them much longer,
I'll end up with cooties.

I'm not gonna be,
Miss goody-two-shoes.
I've really had it with
Being called on by you.

I've done so much,
For an ungrateful like you.
And this is the limit
I'll be taking it to.

You think you can keep,
Ordering me around.
Well guess what loser,
There's freedom that I've found.

No longer gonna do
As you say.
I'm gonna kick off my boots
And laze away.

Will do as I please,
And roam around in ease,
All the while whistling,
Care to hear it? -- 'phee-eeee'

Then we'll see you,
Scurrying around
From cellar to roof,
Out, in and out.

No one to cook
And wash for you.
No one to iron
Those clothes for you.

At the end of the day,
What a sight you will be.
Haa haa stepmother,
You look so freakin' dirty!

And then I'll get,
My chance to play
Evil Cinderella,
And blast you away!

Haa haaa, haaa haaa haa.... ahaa haaaa haaa haaa haa... (The Evil Cinderella laugh)

Just came floating to my mind - what if good girls turned nasty, bad and rebellious! Cinderella seemed perfect for the role. All the atyaachar (torture) she went through, what with her stepmother and step-sisters. Nasty Cinderella seems like such a nice change! Plus, the modern lingo for her brings a slight twist to her character.

NOTE: By no means has this poem been written to instill wrong perceptions in children, it's just a work of spontaneous creativity and imagination.


Venice :)

18 July, 2011

The Brink of You

Her soft naked feet swept speedily
Through the tickling grass.
The trees green,
The flowers bright
And the sun yellow,
All passed her in a kaleidoscopic blur
As her silver-white silhouette scissored the landscape.

A rock here,
A stump there,
Her buoyant body bounced over them easily
As her resilient spirit steered her on.

A dark grey shroud sank down on her scenery,
It groaned as its weight settled over her canvas.
Her strides faltered slightly as her eyes perceived the sight,
go on’ her inner voice whispered boldly,
Go On’ it urged her persistently,
GO ON!’ its crescendo snipped sharply through the shroud,
 And with an overwhelming ferocity,
She thrust away the heavy grey drapes
To welcome a sweetly-painful sight.

There down below,
At a deadly plunging depth,
Was the Home that she had forsaken.

The sensitive wind transported the smell of her destiny,
As she stood there
On the brink.
She inhaled it deeply, slowly, measuring each intake delicately
Procrastinating the decision that she knew she had to take.

The fingers of the torn shroud behind her
Danced temptingly as she debated;
The death-defying drop looked up grimly at her on her other side.

‘What are you waiting for?’ asked her inner voice,
‘For myself’, she responded quiveringly.
‘There’s just one way to find yourself’ counselled her voice gently.
And with that,
She walked unhesitatingly toward the alluring shroud,
Spun around swiftly,
Struck powerful strides, charged and
Leaped into the unknown depths
Of the ravine holding her destiny.