How in the name of Poseidon, do you think,
From a water fountain, must one steal a drink ?
Make that water-borne link,
As it is jettisoned from the brink,
While the thirst and the thirster clink.
Coz I haven’t found a task more daunting,
With such excruciating memories haunting ;
No challenge so wrecking,
Nor a blow so pecking ;
No ego buster so insulting,
Nor a failure so hurting.
Let me explain you why,
This effort makes me cry ;
The water splashes all around,
On your face and about your grin,
Flooding the bends of your chin ;
Down your neck and southward bound,
Towards your lines and creases abound ;
And thenceforth, to hound,
Some wrinkles newfound.
Everywhere, except your mouth,
Where not a drop finds holy ground ;
And whatever does get in miraculously,
Is lost and almost never found ;
Sucking you dry and tiring you helpless,
Swamped and irate and ironically drowned.
Do I tilt my head to an obtuse angle ?
Stick my tongue out and let it dangle ;
Lick every sip or sip every lick,
Till everything is a blur,
In the topsy turvy tangle ;
As I lay down my arms,
In this aquatic wrangle.
Or should I twist my head upside down ?
And pray, while I wear the idiot’s crown,
Embarrassing myself to town ;
That a miracle this might churn,
And the water may take a turn ;
Or my mouth would finally learn,
Or serendipitously itself place,
In the parabolic trajectory with grace ;
So a swig or a swallow I could embrace,
And a parched loser’s mark erase ;
Whilst not letting my neck strangle,
Nor the remains of my self esteem mangle.
Do I with my mouth,
Draw an imaginary circle ?
Purse my lips into a hollow,
And manage not to turn purple ;
And thence, with this rehearsal,
Towards that stream hurtle ;
With my mind fabricate,
A mighty pipette elaborate,
To siphon the water and translocate,
It to the droughty gustatory mounds,
Lying beseechingly in wait ;
Imploring my lungs not to asphyxiate,
While my mouth and mind collaborate.
Or should I bend down on my knees instead ?
Keep my neck unbent and a straight head,
Open my mouth wide like the dentist said ;
Hoping the water to hose down,
The barren lands downtown ;
Except that it may douse my nose first,
Prick my dignity and let it burst ;
And worse and worst,
It may find its way in,
To my nostrils and make my head spin ;
Whirl around in my sinuses and head south,
Spread to my throat by the work of mouth ;
But looking on the bright side,
Even though it would dunk my pride,
The roadblocks and the dirty route brushed aside,
At least, the water would have made it inside.
Is there a way,
out of this noose ?
Do I gulp the water down,
like my favourite juice ;
Guzzle it like beer,
Or slurp it like soup ?
Or should I sip it daintily like tea ?
A suck and a sup grand prix ;
Look nonchalant and pretend,
That this is as easy as A B C.
Do I take an easy way out,
A quick fire solution,
To abbreviate the drought ?
Just stroll around and look casual,
Going about the business as usual ;
And discreetly pour the water in a bottle,
Let the onlookers smirk,
And their chortles half-effortedly throttle.
Or should I go the Indian way ?
Purport it to be child’s play ;
Cup my hands in the stream and splay,
The geometric flow midway ;
Turn a deaf ear,
To the hee-haws and the nay-nays;
Gurgle with glee,
And a smug look display.
This solemn affirmation, I can safely make,
With spirits rock bottom and a bloody headache ;
That if a need should arise,
And to save the earth, a plan we must devise ;
I may be able to move a mountain,
But I cannot drink from a water fountain.
There is no Everest so profound,
That would leave you,
So frowned and wound.
How do I conquer this hurdle,
Without dislocating a girdle,
And turning abusively verbal ?
How do I keep my mouth open,
Just the right way,
With my poise unbroken ;
And still look like a lady,
Not dimwit, crazy or shady ;
And hope my face would not go in to spasm,
Amidst all this enthusiasm ;
To a duck face contorted,
Whilst the cruel world snorted,
Guffawed and retorted ;
Wondering to myself, why,
The dreaded fountain couldn’t be distorted,
Into a spout, a tap or a faucet ;
Saving us a whale of trouble,
With a needless faux pas thwarted.
One thought on “Watery Woes”
Great theme great poetry. So proud of you.