Shuttle

The restless feathers ruffled on a cone

when the game began in an open court.

Passions would collide to vie for the throne,

as the shuttle whirled and flew, back and forth.

The crowd oohed to the rhythm of the squeaks.

Their heads yo-yoed to track the plumy bird.

Louder than the action the echoes speak.

The pace so furious that sighting is blurred.

The shuttle shuttles like an emotion -

soars and dips to our whimsical fancies.

Sometimes it thuds on the web it can’t shun,

and the wings wither while its powers cease.

The game may end, and players play their part.

But the drama is instilled in each one’s heart.

Bumsy Chuchi

Seems not long ago when you first rolled your bubbly eyes.

Little did I know, chocolates would cease the drama-cries.

Ice cream became your food, pasta the staple diet.

Now all you do is wag your bumsy and flash that smile.

Crossroads

Muses lay dormant in a cauldron.

When some logs fuel and crackle,

emotions ramble around and burn.

As paths clear - fear not what appear.

It is time the excesses offload.

Beliefs that were ramshackle

would wither as you stand at crossroads.