Sometimes I write. This is a place for such times. Honestly writing doesn't come naturally to me. Nothing does actually. What I am passionate about is doing nothing in particular, thinking nothing in particular.

But sometimes I read. And sometimes I like it too. And I like reading what I write when sometimes I manage to. Perhaps that is why i write.

Reeding a Pom

He chewed on the extinguished butt of his biri
And preached, perched on a banana tree:

There is a proper way to reed a pom.
It is, in itself, an art form.
Make sure you have a pom healthy and fit.
So that its juices are intact when you reed it.
First bend the spikes along the hole, and see
It needs to be done slow and affectionately!
Now hold it by its wings
And run your feet along its hinge.
Then press the switch beside the roe
With your middle or little toe.
A handful of light will then
Erupt from the tip of its pane.
Store it in a jar till it reddens, in fact
An empty bottle of Old Monk will be perfect.
There you have a pom nicely reeded
It will last you another decade.

And if you think you know of a better device
Please, let me convince you otherwise.

Korou Khundrakpam 27-11-09