Yes, those hush voices soon grew restless And hatched a plot at a table with bottles And hid in a bundle of firewood in guise of a nine months’ pregnancy by that wise And went to him when surrounded by men and the ransom made her cackle like a hen In a hysterical voice to say, “Yes, I’m him.” Nature’s magic played by extending a limb; Her pregnancy turned into a dried bundle Of firewood, and plot into an empty bubble, Out of which came running squeaking rats, Stripping black veils of night-dwelling bats, Proving nature’s magic does stand for truth.
Smiles😊, opens his mouth wide and he does smile😊,
In the festive season, it must be everyone’s style;
Here! There! and everywhere, these people smile😊;
On these city walls, I cannot see anyone hostile.
Loyal is his neck to his body and face well shaven;
His well round belly is a sign he eats only bacon;
Shape and style hail highly that he is not a craven;
How happy they should be who live in this haven!
There! a bag of bones salutes a man with a smile😊;
I can hear what he says standing there immobile,
“You politician, salute us now with your, fake smile😊
When elected, you frown us; that’s your natural style”.
On a blissful spring morning,
when I wedded this sweetie, then twenty and flirting,
I was blessed by birds with their melodious chirping
and a ‘host of flowers’ merrily blooming.
On a sizzling summer day noon,
I saw a spooky snake chase a house rat in a cartoon,
and a harsh stifling wind topple a sand castle down,
and the tigress standing, wearing a fierce frown.
On a dismal autumnal evening,
when grey leaves were fluttering down, while grieving,
and the rosy dusk was cheering the tired sun declining,
I saw her at the door-step cheerfully waiting.
In this chilly, intense winter night,
I saw a geckos’ fight, then flight, through dimmed light,
their swift halt and entwinement in a bundle too tight,
and felt our souls vow of their unity in delight.
Conflict is not a monster that sets us apart;
conflict is but a benefactor disguised so smart.
No conflict, no drama; no drama, no conflict.
Can the action move forward, with no conflict,
from exposition to resolution, through climax,
or the hero become at least a little more complex?
Had those feudal serfs not challenged the gentry,
and you wouldn’t bravely challenge your spouse,
wouldn’t mansions still suffer without our entry;
would there be suspense for the mice in your house?
If everyone says, ‘Yes’ and no one says, ‘No’,
if everyone begins to love and no one hates,
then everything will just halt or leisurely flow;
will you then see different colors, shapes or states?
Without a friendly conflict between bow and string,
if you shoot in haste, without holding it in leisure
and gently releasing it, will it to its target fling
and you get any treasure or simply any pleasure?