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The Rach Files

By on Jun 29, 2007 in ffutS evitaerC | 1 comment

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More poems from Rach, except that there were a few to put up and I thought that putting them up together would be better. So here are a few more, which are equally good, but then, his last two were equally ‘more gooder’ than the rest…

I, Me, Myself

I looked at them.
They glared back.
I chewed on a straw of hay
– They did too.
A hawk called out
In distant Rhodesia.
An old man,
On his patio,
Strummed some Spanish.
The sand was hot,
The cacti pukey green.
I took out my gun
– Theirs already gleamed in the sun.
Someone fired.
Eh…or was it a knock?
I spat out
My toothbrush fragments.
Spat the paste.
(Oh!
What a waste!)
I spend too much time
I there
– The loo,
With my three best friends
– I, Me, Myself.

The Girl In the Window

I was walking past it
And,
I saw her.
I had not stared so long at anyone.
But,
She was a special someone.
Ah,
Look at her eyes
– So blue.
I was transfixed,
As if stuck with glue.
Her looks,
They were as apetizing
As food to a weary traveler.
My,
She was a princess
Straight out of fairy books.
From that day,
I became her beauty’s marveler.
Everyday, I saw her in the window.
And, in her eyes,
I saw the love rise.
And then,
I saw her in the park.
My heart jumped
A though hit by a spark.
For the time first,
I saw her up close.
My heart burst
For I didn’t have a rose.
I was still dreaming
When,
Off came her hair
And out stepped a boy.
With himself, he was so pleased
As if he had bought
A new toy.
It was then that it struck me,
The ‘she’ was a ‘he’.
I still remember her ‘coz,
She was the love that never was.

Spanky Time

Not a soul stirs,
Not a fly moves.
Over everyone,
Gloom looms.
The teacher,
A wicked cowboy
Complete with the spurs.
Copy after copy,
Cross after cross.
And,
Occassionaly deciding someone’s fate
With her infamous toss.
Satan is nothing,
Our teacher the devil.
At her hitting capacity,
One can only marvel.
Now,
She is over me.
And,
In my pants,
I can only pee.
Crosses,
And she moves on.
Before long,
She is long gone.
But,
I can’t forget
Copy-checking time.
For,
It is always
Spanky time.

What I like about Rach’s poems is that it he keeps you guessing – you start reading a poem and then you think ‘Ah, usual mushy / emotional stuff…’ and your eyes just scan through to the end, which is a killer line. And then, you read the whole thing again and notice how he cleverly manages to to fool the reader, and how well HIS interpretation also turns out to be true! I love this stuff…but again, being Rach he gets bored of things – leaves projects half-way etc etc. Sigh.



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