National Poem Writing Month 2020: Day 24: Slurp

It all started with the pungent yet sweet smells

of the buds in the lazy winter noons or

ascending long evenings.

It all started with thuds and thuts on the roofs;

they were young and unripe;

they are sour and sweet–

You can have it but don’t be ashamed of

the smacking that follow.

When the April Nor’wester arrives, they fall with rain

giving opportunity to play

found and collect; the most collected one is winner

for sure.

Nothing can be done when it’s a prompt and it’s

Summer; the essays and poems get

occupied by its scents and tastes;

pages filled up with the fantasies.

Nothing can be done when it’s juice or shakes or

smoothie and it’s Summer; it will be there in

varied guise, there are so many name for each

like Langra, Alphonso, Himsagar, and

et cetera et cetera.

It all started with a quarrel, sweet, who has the juiciest

or who is going to have the softest ripiest one.

The shame takes an escape as the mouth and jaw got

smeared with its yellow or orange, and the taste

trickled down the wrist making dots or spots

on the place of sit.

You can lick your hands if you want.

Abandon the fork to taste it.

Bite if you want to taste the best

or you can skin it but don’t forget to lick inside

the skin–

the treasure of ecstasy also remain hidden there.

It all start with poking to examine the softness;

followed by sniffing; followed by getting the skin;

conclusion is the excited slurp and satiated smacking

accompanied by

scent–sweet and balmy Summery one.

By Sangbad

A poet, an author, a reviewer--in one word I'm a literaturist (means one who is trying almost everything that Literature is made of). My books are available at Amazon. I'm a Bengali, born and raised in Kolkata, West Bengal.

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