Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

A small land, barren, neither round nor square,

For the boys, though it was their lair.

By flats it was surrounded,

For them it hardly mattered,

As they played unfettered.

With bat and ball, and played with no caution,

The ball landed, hitting the flats often.

Some tolerated, by some were they admonished,

The game, however, continued without blemish.

But one flat the boys were wary of,

From its aunty they all fell foul of,

Angry as she was,

The balls if landed nearby or regions thereof,

It came back sawn in half.

And for it specifically, was strategically placed,

A boy, swiftly who would grab the ball in haste.

‘Swifty’ they called him.

And was he quite a jinn!

Swift, as ‘Swift’ could however be,

Aunty would, at times, outwit him.

One such day, the ball hit Aunty’s wall,

And out she came declaring war.

“You boys are all a pain, 

What if the ball had hit the pane”

Her thundering stance scared none,

The boys said the war has begun.

“Far from the window,” they said

“It just hit the wall, why then do you bawl”

It enraged the Aunty further,

“From tomorrow, none should be found hither.”

Her order as she pronounced,

With great guffaw the boys denounced.

It wasn’t all that they said, before they bolted,

“Now that you have taken us on, 

Tomorrow the pane will be gone.”

As dusk settled, all forgotten, another day dawned, 

To their schools the kids left,

One kid though went AWOL.

His nom-de-plume being ‘Wild arm’, 

For stones, balls or whatever

Boy, could he throw them afar!

But never where it intended,

For on his aim they never counted.

A stone in hand, he trotted and 

Below the Aunty’s balcony, a pig he spotted.

In peace it was foraging and it grunted.

Irresistibly, he threw the stone and for once,

On the mark was he and hit well did he!

As the stone landed perfectly, 

On the back of the pig, and more,

It bounced off to hit the balcony door.

Incensed,  the Aunty out she stormed,

A barren ground she saw and none around,

Except the pig, ‘oink oink’ it grunted,

‘Oink’ it said again in salutation, 

‘Swine’ she muttered in exasperation 

And on the pig she hurled the stone. 

The inert stone was back in motion,

Hitting the sow with some force, 

Off its body again it rose,

Then in a parabolic course,

Wheezing past Aunty’s nose, 

Into the window it crashed,

Rendering the pane into clattering trash.

The pig scampered, neighbours gathered, terrified.

Aunty, with a stone and wrecked pane, stood, stupefied.

Sheepishly she explained all that befall,

The pig, the stone, the pane et al.

It then slowly dawned on her, the brawl,

The curse of the boys, after all, had come to call.