Talking Senses

Wet whiff of sour milk
the rustle of silk
the kerang of a guitar
the Who, or their ilk

the whirl of a dervish
the bloat of a blowfish
the wince of a lemon
that chocolate fetish

a pause for reflection
I have a confession
nothing too serious
but I have to mention

I have doubts about my ability
to convey tactility
so ,hey, here’s an eggshell
go on, feel the fragility.

The man who communicated with paintings

He liked to shout at Picasso
commiserate with Van Gogh
ruminate with Monet
joke with Michelangelo.

Goodbye, Ruba’i Tuesday

this is it, finally, the last ruba’i
it’s time to call it a day, say goodbye
but there is still time for another rhyme
yes, that’s right, you’ve guessed it, it’s ‘Dubai’.