By Vibha Vasanth
Our family, by the door, has an urn Where people go after they burn; Honestly it is more of a tray Yes, the ashes sometimes fly away; I don’t want to be put there once I’m gone And this feeling only got more strong; When during one of my short walks I saw the neighbour’s cat use it as a litter box.
The Pill Popper
In the yellow house down the street Where the grass is always trimmed and neat; There lived a middle aged guy Every day, he ate a cherry pie; One of the things that filled him with dread Was that all this pie would leave him dead; To prevent this what he decided to do Was to take pills for everything, even the flu; He took the blue pills for his heart Which he got from his neighbour Bart; The grey pills were for his nose Which he hid in the garden hose; The pink ones were to cleanse his blood Which were stored in the wet mud; The green pills were to fix his brain Which were kept in the sink drain; He took these pills every day So in perfect health he could stay; Which is why it deeply saddens me to say He choked on a pink pill and passed away.
I woke up to find myself in a fighting ring My opponent was a duck wearing a belt that read ‘king’; It was just a duck, I could take it on But this is where I was completely wrong; It flashed me a set of really sharp teeth I could see its talons were in their sheath; Out they came, the bird charged at me I took one beating, two then three; One more blow and I was done for sure But as the duck came at me, I saw it veer; In the audience it saw a lady eating popcorn Charged over there before, her, I could warn; The duck and lady got into a wrestling match Each one, the popcorn, they tried to catch; I didn’t stay back to see who won This was my chance to escape, I was done.
There is an hourglass in my family Made of teak wood, it looks lovely; It’s been handed one generation to the next Along with a secret piece of text; Which the elders said we could not read From its envelope it’s never been freed; Something weird about this hourglass Please don’t judge, just give it a pass; It had in it only twelve grains of sand Why this was, no one could understand; Now the hourglass has finally reached me I could give into my curiosity; Open the envelope and look inside And find out what the elders wanted to hide; Inside the envelope there was a long letter That started with my great aunt making cake better; Apparently when she had finished baking her cake She ran out of sanding sugar to decorate; Sneakily from the full hourglass she took some sand Approximately enough to hold in her hand; With this she finished the decorations For whatever upcoming celebrations; Having come to know the significance of the twelve Into the past we need no longer delve; Now I find it rather hilarious To keep this hidden, people were so precautious.