Sunday, November 30, 2014

Jenny of All Trades

The phone rings in my sparse office
An old rotary
"Ring, ring"
I answer,"Marionette Repair Inc.
How may I direct your call?"

A lady with a soft raspy voice replies,
"I am so distraught. Can you help me?"
"Yes ma'am, I can. I make a living out of it.
Tell me what I can do for you.

"You see, I have an expensive marionette
My mother procured for me
And it is broken."

"Is it the strings, or the crossbars,
Or the marionette himself?

"How did you know it is a he?"

"Elementary my dear Watson.
You regard this as a business matter
Not a matter of the heart.
Were it a she marionette
One that a mama had procured for her daughter
You would've been crying,
Not speaking in hushed tones to a stranger
Who works out of a hovel in a dark alley
Across the tracks at the edge of town"

"Hmmm... I'm dealing with a lowlife eh?"

"Nope madam. Well perhaps yes,
If you consider marionette repair a lowly profession."

"Well, how can I get the marionette to you
So you can fix him?"

"Fix him? Are we talking neutering?
Well, for that, there's Hillary down the street.
I repair marionettes."

" Hehehehe .....Funny girl, he's wooden."

"They all are. Brethren of Pinochio.
I'm just the Blue Fairy, and I have Jiminy for an assistant."

"The marionette is broken. Fix him.
My men will deliver him to you in about eight days.
I trust you."


I look out the one sliver of glass high on the wall
That serves as a window in my little room
The sun is shining
The leaves on that tree outside
Throw pretty shadows on the ceiling
A patch of the bluest sky peeks into my dark quarters

The traffic hums along as usual
A clock ticks quietly and so does my heart
All's well with the world and yours truly

"Ring, ring," says the rotary

Something tells me
The caller isn't looking for a marionette repair service
Maybe it was Jiminy or a fellow fairykin
Who whispered in my ear,"Be careful."

I instinctively use my other identity
As I answer politely,
"Faberge Interiors Inc.
How may I direct your call?"

A concerned but polite soprano replies,
"Ah, yes, my wife would like some redecorating
Around the house and pool.
Can you help?"

"Sure," I say,"Your wish is my command.
We work seven days a week
We're fairies and elves
Who do your bidding.
We take no breaks for sleep or leisure or food."

"Well," he says, embarrassed  and confused,
"All I had in mind was a little splurge for
A little more class in the living room
A little more comfort in the dining room
And better conversation in the master bedroom.
Can you arrange a makeover?"

"Geez geezer, who do you think I am?
Aladin's genie?
Only he can give you a castle and throw in a princess for free.
I work solely to decorate your space.
I love beautifying bare walls
And artfully cluttering lonely shelving systems.
That's my forte."

"Name your price."

"For that we must work on the square footage
 and styles of fabric, paint, wood, tile..."

"No wait, it's the ambience I crave.
I've seen your blog.
Give me your best.
I love the sparseness of your Lincoln collection
And the richness of your French collection
Also the grandeur of your Arthur collection
Can you give me your all?"

"We're talking major commitment here.
Let's see. I'm busy until February
Then there's the Pixie convention I go to every year
I can start in March"
"No darlin' you don't understand.
I want it now."

"Let me see.
There's a lady sending over
her broken marionette this week."

"(Gulp) ...Er, yes, that, oh,
Perhaps you didn't know.
That was my wife."

"Haaaa haaaaa haaa haaaa...
I see what is going on here.
I've dealt with crazy before
But this is the funniest crazy I've ever seen.
I will be awfully busy the next few months.
Call me when you've made some progress on your own.
Redecorating isn't rocket science.
You just have to become a real boy first.
And your masterminder is another story.
I wish you luck until we meet again."


It's time  again to take the trash out
To get the mail in
To walk the dog
To toss out the kitty litter
To boil the potatoes
To go on with life ....                   

                                                                                            ~  Sonali

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Road Maps

What land is this?
In what universe?
The poles don't align anymore
The sun goes sideways in the sky
With just enough tilt for day break
And sundown to occur

I can walk on streams
Ice feels like glass
Snow tastes like sugar
The stars are almost as big as the moon
Blue diamonds in the glittering sky

Where am I?
Sweet Ambrosia has dried on my lips
My body is numb yet the nerves are on edge
The winds fan a cold fire in my body and soul
The mind observes but does not participate

 Far away bridges move creating new paths
The jungle takes over old paved roads
A home that once stood on a busy street
Is now surrounded by fields and trees
Where am I?

Once more God has decreed
There shall be an alteration in the plans
For my life, and yours, and yours, and yours
Once more new resiliences must be built
Once again a legend is born

To a new map of the universe

                                                                              ~ Sonali

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Stained Glass Windows

love/window/dream/lipstick - this was the prompt for a weekend poetry writing exercise at "April ". This was my poem. The painting is by Huang Hsiao-Hui, titled "Yellow Roses" 2014

I looked out the window
At the rain coming down
I saw a smudge of red lipstick
From yeas ago

Was it love
Or was it just a dream
I stepped closer
To see it better

It was a shred of a rose petal
Clinging to the wet glass
Like its life depended on it

                                                    ~  Sonali

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Winter Fallow

Cold as cold can be
This winter left me free
To be my own person

What joy it is
To birth the Self
And to love your new baby

The cherubic delight
That your are
In plain sight

That you hadn't seen before
In forty years or more
But now you know

Now you see
Who you can be
When you've given up

On the self-sabotage
That once looked
A lot like living

                                                                                                                    ~  Sonali


This was written as part of a writing exercise on "April". The theme was "waiting". Shakuntala was an automatic choice for the subject of the poem.

It is always February in the land of those who wait
Spring is just beyond reach just as is joy and is speech
There is silence cold as ice for the song birds have fled
And have not returned yet to the splendor of a spring awakening

The buds on trees hold promise but no proof that promises are always kept
The winter wheat is still green in the fields
The foal and fawn haven't been birthed yet
The ants have gone missing, the peacock hasn't been seen preening

The bees are huddled in their hives
The bears in their cave, the rabbits in their burrows
The fish and the mermaid have stayed low to stay alive
As the pond froze in patches in the chill of the gloaming

The smell of winter is the smell of absence
It is the taunt of the memory of fragrant limes and jasmine sweet
It is the cruel longing for the first droplets of rain after the summer's heat
February reeks of the dark and dank and the decaying

                                                                                                                                     ~   Sonali