Sunday Poem By Richik Banerjee

1. Almonds are loquacious

Almond 1: “The thunders are booming, growling, cursing!!”
Almond 2: “Yes, the weather is so warm, isn’t it?!”
(Almond 3 & Almond 4 are playing snake ludo mercilessly. I think, 4 is behind.)
Almond 1: “My! My! The lightning is so frankensteinisshhh! infinite stems of voltage beams! Is the color violet or purple?”
Almond 2: “Yes, the weather is so warm, isn’t it?!”
(Almond 5 shouts at the house cook for spilling over a week’s Engine oil in the study room. But? Why in the study room and not in the bathroom?…eeeehhhhh….sorry….kitchen! Food is cooked in the kitchen, right?! Is it? Ohhh! my!! I am too stressed! Where the hell does the cook cook?)
Almond 1: “Hey, look! It’s Thor striking down that freaking Rodan with his bulging muscles!! Wow! But…Has he forgotten his hammer? He seems to be carrying a plastic toothpick in his back pocket. He’ll lose!! Surely, he’ll lose!! Has he lost already..?”
Rodan wins round 3!
Almond 2: “Yes, the weather is so warm, isn’t it?! I need a chilled beer!”
Almond 1: Picks up his PhD manual and throws it towards the warm weather..! The speculative fantasy hits his head and leaves impressions of Don Quixote in between his eyes.
Almond 2: “Aaahhhhhh! You idiot! Panza cracked up my summer boil. Where is the epsom salt? What…they were my favorite bacterias…now they will seek shelter elsewhere.”
Almond 6: “Weren’t we supposed to recite a poem at 7:17?”

2. Egg-hen syndrome

Can images survive?
How can they?
if they don’t care for the subjects.
Do metaphors hear?
How will they?
if they don’t listen to the subjects.
Do poems reflect anything?
Why will they?
if they only care for the rhythm of haves!
Is literature useful, then?
Why should it be?
if it serves the pockets of fakers.
Banksy reloads his creative faculty; the alarm goes off; 14 in the night; he opens his spraying bottle, throws away the cap, sets out to finish off the bottle.
(egg-hen syndrome)
He keeps his stencils untouched as of now.
(Radio warns about the Queen’s horse carriage in danger of a ratsy makeover. Or, her horses, perhaps!)