No Work No Pay
NO WORK NO PAY
A new servant girl steps in
For an interview by my wife
Few questions asked, but historic replies
No means verify the versions thus heard
Wage negotiation is tough & takes little time
With perks and privileges spelt out and ratified
Servant now goes around for a self-inspection
Quickly comparing with other options held
Lastly, she accepts, but on a single condition
That she be paid 50% in advance payment
Collecting the money, she announces her schedules
Weekly rests and no cut if she absented herself
Days passed but, she didn't turn up
As per terms, we are not to hire a casual hand
Another intelligent lady nearby, rushes into confess
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poem by Santhana Louis
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Business Lovers
BUSINESS LOVERS
The women of rare, the Pandora box
of generous feelings that nothing of her is lost
true models of socialistic heart
the unsung great, on national integration cruise
the otherwise nice, is woefully on her wrong foot
tagged at a price, in exchange of her loot
short- lived drama, she plays the role as mute
hang up your boot and nose-dive into the soot
wrestling nights and joyless bouts
handsome gains for machine like work
ready- made smiles, cajole and the run-down flesh
taste-less men do waste their wealth
virtues and values are under the carpet
pricking conscience is ruthlessly slaughtered
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poem by Santhana Louis
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The Negative Rains
THE NEGATIVE RAINS
The pouring rains has just stopped
The lane is empty with no one in sight
Wiped so clean and shinning in light
Chastely new, is in wait for someone it knew
Her fragrant jasmine freshens up the open tunnel
Gently lifted saree rigging open the rare leg panel
Pitching her every step carefully in a forward pace
Luminous hinds lighting up the murky sky
Chilling breeze on her shivering crease
Drizzling dews on the oily cheeks
Partly drenched with mirror like backs
Setting the street on a romance-full blaze
Fridge cool postures, water logged breast cases
Dripping waterlines along the in skirt laces
Rare comes the blossom with the rains of the season
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poem by Santhana Louis
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Busy Lovers' Guide
BUSY LOVERS GUIDE
Writing something to your love
is not plainly as easy as it may seem
she reads those rubbish thrice at least
kissing the portions you have lied very neat
beware of rigid rules that exist
meaningless rhymes and idolized phrases
In fullest praise for her every customs & actions
and must surprise her with gifts and presents
last letter, if was 20 pages, stretch it to forty
as a tangible proof of your love's galloping speed
never touch the ground nor any truthful displays
for, she loves you only for your idiotic face
pretend to be weeping, if she is sobbing
pretend to be laughing when she is boring
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poem by Santhana Louis
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The De Facto Orphan
THE DE FACTO ORPHAN
I have lot of kith and kin
And sadly, living parents
Yet, I lived a life, full of pains
Lonely, as that of an hapless orphan
My boyhood days in the dark boarding halls
Youthful phase was spent in a disciplined hostel
Parents were prompt in paying the mess- bills
As an unfailing donor servicing the cause of or an orphan
They never knew the times I wept
Nor the nights that went unspent
Like a soldier coming home on an annual warrant
I returned to the ‘barracks' with moods so silent
Politely signing on the dotted- lines of the reports of progress
Duties of my parents ended there itself
Inwardly I am sick, in search of love, affection and parental caress
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What's In A Name
WHAT'S IN A NAME
By the very feel of a baby inside the womb
People break their head in search of a name
Crossing the borders and nationalities even
They bring home a damn, in an idiotic craze
Like the race horses having very fascinating names
It is not sure, they win all the courses they run
Choosing a name that is big and different
Has nothing to do in the real life game
By naming my girl as ‘Marlin Munroe'
She cannot storm the hearts of men world over
By naming my boy as ‘Winston Churchill'
He cannot order a new world war either
Is production of a child, a magnificent thing?
Let him achieve greatness on all of his own
Once your flag is up, whatever be thy name
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poem by Santhana Louis
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Pen Friend Days
PEN FRIEND DAYS
A few thousand miles away
I had a nice friend to share
our continuous thoughts and moods
through the medium of words by post
For years together, we were in touch
yet, every time we felt afresh
with every new mail, in hand, that went to vouch
our bond was secure, in the absence of one to one contact
Exchange of gifts and photos, of course
Kept us to shoulders abreast
respecting each others tastes and wishes
cocktail cultures and crude emotional mix-ups
But, I regret, on self-examination
That I do seldom love my fellow Indian
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poem by Santhana Louis
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Enter the Dragon and a Quicksand
She is four years
older than me - yet
I am not mad, but all set
to marry her soon
we have been in contact
for six long years
knew each other's conduct
quite perfectly well
our interests are many
much in common, sweet, funny
just strikingly identical
balanced and parried
we are at heart
very clean and frank
familiar and passionate
on the weaknesses and blanks
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poem by Santhana Louis
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Two Pizzas
TWO PIZZAS
Our kitchen is chill silent
today, this Friday afternoon -
four-burner prestige stove
stays mute, wiped so clean.
no activities seen
for the mid-day meal
wife and children are
chit- chatting in bed;
stories from Russia,
‘hithihasic kahanies'
tit-bits form weeklys
mock-trial make-ups
slowly, I entered in
to inquire the reason,
for a near hartal.
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Star Wars
STAR WARS
God was not happy with the goings-on
Resolved to punish the mankind harshly once
Locked himself in the Master-switch room
With a molten red face of anger and disgust
He thought of sending all the natural forces
But, man has conquered each of them long back
When He tickled upon viruses and epidemics
Earth is securely immune and fully vaccinated against
On test, God sent a big fire ball down
But our Mr. Red Adair **, was there to fight it alone
Now, God has no levers to pull
To cause havoc or deter the peoples down
God was tired, self-defeated and was ashamed
To realize that He is no more omnipotent
Wanting a truce under a forced ceasefire
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poem by Santhana Louis
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