MY DOLL

I have a beautiful doll,                                                    

                          Which is my soul.

She has many a kite

        And so many mates.

                                                 She has two little eyes

And loves two handsome guys,

Which are my kittens.

To the toys truly a mighty boss,

With a lovely pose.

On the hand a red rose.

When I called her to come to play

She was not in the mood.

When she was out in the woods

                                                        I searched for her but in vain.

She came in the night so late,

With a handsome mate,

In the morning she broke a vase,

And was in a trembling state.                      But whatever she does,

I’ll not punish her.

For she was given to me

By my noble father, who is very dear to me.

                                                                                         

ANUSHA.U.R.

7 yrs

Dedicated to the doll my father gave me, my first doll that could blink. This was a consciously constructed poem, highly influenced by my brother’s maniacal need for sound at the expense of sense. Till I was nine I believed my brother was omniscient. So when he told me rhyme was more important than sense, I felt loyal but incomplete.  When he saw I was on the verge of tears since I could not think of words that rhyme, he suggested ideas and words that feature in the first stanza. He was loyal and has not claimed copyright all these years.