FITS AND STARTS
For a cold winter’s day
When you’re, maybe, all sad and forlorn,
Here’s a tale,
Which, to many, may not be known.
It may not be a mystery,
it may not evoke fear,
But it shall make you smile,
Of that I am sure.
So throw away your cares,
And sharpen your wits and wares,
For now I begin this story –
When things were not hunky-dory
For a girl (we shall call her Em,
For want of a better name).
She awoke one bright morn,
From her moorings feeling torn,
About her life she speculated
As in her bed she rested..
And woe began to creep on,
The clouds of worry darkened
The, until then, bright morn.
“What am I doing?
Where am I going?”,
So she contemplated,
“Where does the never-ending
Lonely, friendless road of life head?”
To seek an answer was a folly
For no longer, she remained, gay and jolly.
Down in the dumps she went,
In weeping and moaning was all her time spent,
Until one particularly bleak day,
“I simply cannot go on this way!”,
So she proclaimed.
Being smart and on the mend,
To all her moping she put an end.
Soon with her bag of guiles and tricks;
Her mind no longer in a fix,
Into the world she marched anew
She sure had a plan or two!
“I will find me a nice smart guy,
We will have fun times, oh boy! we sure will fly,
And when it is time for us to land
We will part, like good friends, on the shake of a hand.”
(so she cooked, broiled and planned…)
And so in the days of her youth,
Having discovered ‘activities uncouth’
Into the multitudinal throng..
There followed hardly any pretty balls,
Only an intermittent series, of stumbles and falls.
But, you’ve got to appreciate
The perseverance, of this reckless profligate;
Never was the pace slackened
Nor her pursuits abandoned..
“Never let things rest,
Work till you are good-better-best!”
In every quest,
Such was her motto,
Followed loyally and in toto.
So it was one (male) face after another,
“Remembering names is such a bother!”
And then one day it happened!
Though, not quite the same, as she envisioned..
Amongst a crowd, like her, all chirpy and gay,
Her mind registered someone, there and yet still away.
‘Quiet of countenance, sedate and quite diffident’,
Not much import was attached to the incident…
Fate, however, had decided the plan of action
Amusedly watching, the strange interaction;
Little by little, drew them together,
Peaceful somnolent nights were now, fewer and fewer.
The definition of their relationship.
“Men”, she told him, “have their uses,
But only at times and if the self it amuses,
Each guy is merely a life episode,
For me, none an event.
No offence meant!”
Confabulations and disputations
Soon became, routine in their repetitions;
Not long though, before things changed
(as Freud would have ordained)
‘Emotions are a slippery commodity
You lose control of them, oh! so easily!’
And now dear reader, this tale loses its levity;
Entanglements galore, to say it all and in brevity –
Em, our heroine, was all knotted up and confused,
Feeling uncannily, that she was being used.
So she revolted time and again
To try and break this inexorable chain.
But life had designed that it be so,
That the poor, miserable soul
Be caught up in the flow.
Strange was their attachment,
Sometimes joyous, others turbulent,
But hardly ever peaceful, mostly violent!
At times, things seemed, to Em, so right –
There were umpteen moments of shared delight,
But then would arise the occasions,
When overflowed their frayed passions –
At moments such as this,
With never a chance of making up with a kiss,
They fought and clawed, spitting fire and hell;
“Is this my soul mate? I cannot tell!”,
So brooded often, our dear Em,
First rarely and then again and again.
“Enough is enough!” – it was decided,
“I’ve got to be tough (feeling completely derided)
I will not be emotionally mauled or so badly with, toyed,
With disdain and indifference will not be ployed”.
So all her resistance she employed
And our Em, she discretely fled,
To a place, quiet and serene,
Where the air was refreshing (and not a particle mean).
But, a nagging sense of emptiness; a lack –
“I will not turn back,
I do not miss him, I never shall.
He thinks he is God, what nerve, what gall!”
Em raved and ranted in her mind,
Regretting, or maybe not, what she had left behind…
At the end of her ‘enlightening’ trip,
With her senses now firmly in grip,
To the preceding scenario, was she brought,
To enter, once again, into our plot.
Her love, so rudely discarded, was, as yet there,
Waiting, tender, with a heart full of care.
They met, and as before, were fused
Gentle, timid. Parting, having them subdued.
But soon the sparks began to fly
(it was time again for Em to fret and fry!)
And so the years flew by…
To be contd…
This poem is part of the Book Social Potpourri – An Anthology II