The dragonfly

With his twisted rhymes and grammar and nonsensical words, Ogden Nash remains one of the most humorous poets I have read. His poems inspire me to indulge in some light poetry every now and then. Here’s one fresh from the oven.

The dragonfly is one great liar
It ain’t a dragon, ain’t got any fire.
Its buzz is pedestrian, scrawny his frame,
Wonder what prompted such a menacing name.

A nymph they call it when it’s an infant,
The food chain doesn’t think it’s a giant.
It can neither scare nor intimidate
Yes it’s a humble invertebrate.

Hope’s not lost,
for it does have a lethal side;
It preys on its ilk with pride.
Flies, bees, ants or wasps
Are all devoured when within its grasp.

Some confuse it with the damselfly,
It’s hard to understand how and why.
What do damsels and dragons share?
One entices, the other flares.

If of this species I was a creature,
I would certainly be cross with nature,
And ask why I deserved this skeletal shape
Or the misplaced nomenclature.



While I stay here waiting for you
my mind becomes a mosaic of your memories.

Days pass me by without leaving their footprints,
Cities morph into cemeteries of iron and stone.

Nights lay incomplete like abandoned clay,
The wind is stale and stiff like neglected bread,
And when people talk, I hear the sound of pebbles.

Your scent perforates this room; your touch caresses the walls.
This place is entangled with your kisses,
and shaped by the contours of your shoulders.
Sometimes I pick a fragment of time lying here,
And find it enveloped by your laughter.

Without you, I have the freedom of an island,
And the vastness of a black hole.