ANGRY BIRDS

# Day 29 #ArtoonsinnPoetryParlour #NaPoWriMo2022

Prompt # Write a poem which ends in a question

Work from home!

That being said, I only need an alarm at dawn to prepare breakfast before Home Based Lessons start.

After which, I don’t need any clocks in my house nor do I have to keep time… until noon, my thudding heart!

For, exactly at 8.a.m. every day, a shrill jarring female voice spilling over with annoyance rends through the silence...

Unfortunately from the apartment facing right across my bedrooms, the darned disturbance!

For the next 4 hours, I can be rest assured of an unrelenting, whopping migraine and the non-stop varied sopranos of this angry, operatic yelling

Amid her pauses and also along with her as a chorus, there ensues another miniature version of her voice full of tantrums and stubborn bawling.

Keeping her front door wide open, the shrieking female voice reaches a crescendo

Like the final beat of the drum, down comes a crash, of a heap of utensils in a frenzied tornado

A pile of heavy books following with loud series of thuds—

The ‘orphaned’ and abandoned homework presumably from long, long ago…I pity the poor kiddo

The grand finale stems with a tempo of a couple of disciplinary thwacks.

And more exaggerated squealing by the miniature voice in tantrums and talkbacks.

The Banshee is at it like a timekeeper. When all the whinnying and bellowing ceases, right on dot every day

I gather it’s about mid-day and also about time to have to have my lunch, it's twelve o'clock alackaday!

But!!! I am a fiercely protective mother to my own daughter when voices unnecessarily float in,

Strictly trespassing when she’s taking an online graded exam, "Mum, can you about it do sumthn?"

This continued nuisance made her wince or want of focus during her Math test

Bringing forth the ‘Lion Mom’ avatar in me at its best!

Drastic measures called for a high-definition ‘Mufasa’!

With every ounce of vocals I owned, jutting my head outside my window, I roared out a bass solely reserved for jackasses, ahh!

With a “Hey Idiot, you can shut the hell up now! We have an online school exam going on!”

The yodelling stopped in a heartbeat. Must have struck her dumbfounded when someone else owned a roar that tipped her scale of siren.

And today? A jackass is a jackass is a jackass!!!

I have put away my clocks. They make up for the clangs, crashes that come from across🙄

Things have suddenly gone dead quiet now, after an encore operatic session.

It must be twelve o'clock, I must quickly have my lunch during this chaotic recession!

Who am I to complain? Who am I to even applaud or criticize this performance???

Is there even an end to this confusion?

Will it ever come to a conclusion? 🙄

Pic Courtesy:Pixabay

Comments

ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026. CHAPTER 1 ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION The sky bled bruises of plum and cherry over the rolling hills. A full moon hung low against the mauve casting silver shards through the trees. The mansion made of cold greystone loomed large beyond the rusted iron gates. It grated on the gravel, rasping on the hinges and yawned open like a predator's jaw as Goldwynn booted it open with her foot. Her sneakers squished heavily on the mulch of dead leaves. Clutching her backpack, she looked up at the towering, grim structure forebodingly. "Are you sure you want to do this?" her friend Lexi whispered, hesitating by the gate. "This mansion's totally cursed, they say." Lexi's voice was a thin thread. A chill crept up her back and she tight...

Moxie N' Mettle

MOXIE N' METTLE In slivers and fragments as my sleep tiptoes, did I do right or wrong my heart needles… Some skies are born of black holes and tempest wreck, There glitters not a ray of light, nor a speck When curtains turbid hold all light hostage, Sandstorms, hailstorms, dust storms, snowstorms, windstorms assail and ravage Spanning my wings as a raging fire Or as a mellow glow of a fairy light in the distant darkness, quite debonaire I'll ignite my spark from within like a star born into itself spurting lava Or explode leaving trails of cosmic dust like a Supernova I will be the Sun creating galaxies and many a constellation. Or burn like a single flame of the candle to keep my hopes and dreams alive with determination! I will be at my own pace I will be whoever and whatever I want to be—in my own race Collapse, crash and crumble! But I'll...

RUTHLESS REVELATIONS (DAY 16, LETTER R)

CHAPTER 15 RUTHLESS REVELATIONS The Three Little Pigs stood triumphant in the whimsical cottage's living room, surrounded by mismatched furniture and waltzing dust motes. Baconne , Porkinn , and Swinedell grinned at each other, puffing out their chests like gangsters. Baconne swaggered closer to the makeshift bar. "You know," he said, stroking his shoulder, "the Big Bad Wolf wasn't so bad after all, was he?" His grin split wide, showing a gold-capped tooth. The pigs snorted, their belly laughs vibrating the chandeliers above. Swinedell poured three tiny glasses of wild truffle liqueur with a theatrical flourish. "Cheers to us!" he growled, hoisting a glass. "We wanted his posh cottage for ourselves. Wolfie mutt was just defending his pad." His eyes glinted like cheap jewels. Goldwynn's face paled. She stammered as she whispered, " Wha...

THE BIG BAD WOLF( DAY 17, LETTER T)

CHAPTER 16 THE BIG BAD WOLF The pigs snarled like proper rascals, fixing their cold steely eyes on the Wolf's cottage. How dare he refuse to part with his cottage! When the pigs demand, it's given to them---no questions asked! Porkinn limped, Baconne was soggy, Swinedell rubbed a sore bump on his head, but they were far from defeated. Swinedell snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Wolf thinks 'e's posh, don't 'e? " Baconne sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "We want the cottage!” He growled. Porkinn cracked his fingers, his sly glance darting about. The pigs crept towards the back door, their footsteps silent on the soft grass. They spotted the Wolf through the kitchen window, stirring a pot of steaming stew for dinner. They kicked the door in, the wood splintering jaggedly. The latch gave in....

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see. A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog