Bossy E

Bossy E is really sly,

And he makes the vowels cry.

When Bossy E walks in the game,

The vowels shiver and say their name.

HAT went out to play and dance,

And Bossy E saw his chance.

He ran and sat beside T,

Making A want to flee.

Bossy E didn’t make a sound,

His voice just wasn’t to be found!

“Go away,” said HAT, “out the gate,

Your bossiness we really HATE!”

So Bossy E walked right out,

And found PET running about.

Again he went and sat by T,

And looked around at letter E.

Bossy E didn’t make a sound,

His voice just wasn’t to be found!

“Go away,” said PET, “find your own seat,

We hate it when you call us PETE!”

So Bossy E went to the gym,

And there he found poor little TIM.

He skipped and sat next to M,

“Now, oh, now, I won’t leave them!”

Bossy E didn’t make a sound,

His voice just wasn’t to be found!

“Go away,” said TIM, “this is a crime,

Your bossiness really wastes our TIME!”

So Bossy E went to the top,

And there he saw happy HOP.

Next to P he went and stood,

As quietly as he possibly could.

  

Bossy E didn’t make a sound,

His voice just wasn’t to be found!

“Go away,” said HOP, “run down the slope,

We just want to smile and HOPE!”

“Who is next? Whom should I bug?”

And then he saw tiny HUG.

He crawled up to letter G,

“I’ll get my hug, just you see!”

Bossy E didn’t make a sound,

His voice just wasn’t to be found!

“Go away,” said HUG, “you silly stooge,

You won’t get a hug- tiny or HUGE!”

Sad and tired, he walked away,

“What did I do? What did I say?

Silently I stand around,

And the vowels shout their lonnnnggg sound.”

Copyright: Ritu Lamba

Don't Let It Win

Today I met Jane skipping down the street,
A twinkle in her eyes and a beat at her feet.
"'Morning, pretty girl, such a sweet, pleasant face,
And a smile so delightful, it adds grace to grace.
The red of your plump, red cheeks suggest
You are cheerful and loved and by everyone blessed."
The twinkle in her eyes dimmed, oh, just a bit,
And the beat at her feet faltered by a split.
'Plump' was the word that shone bright like the sun,
And once again, insecurity won.

As I turned a corner, there I spotted Joe,
A child in his arm, his face aglow.
"'Morning, charming man, what a heart-warming sight,
To see a love so pure, so true and so bright.
 Your son will grow to be joyous, gleeful and whole,
For his father's modest home is the nectar for his soul."
The glow on his face faded, oh, just a bit,
And his grip on his child loosened by a split,
'Modest' was the word that deep his heart bored,
And once again, insecurity scored.

Strolling in the park, I heard an eager hail
Of my dearest, oldest friend, the sweet Mrs. Gale.
"'Morning, Ms. Hope," she said, "I was hoping to meet,
For your kind, free words make every morning sweet.
Your name is befitting, you are Hope in truest form,
Solitary is your step, yet your heart is most warm."
The smile on my lips fell, oh, just a bit,
And the thud of my heart quickened by a split.
'Solitary' was the word that all else drowned,
And once again, insecurity was crowned.

Copyright: Ritu Lamba