A Psychography Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

Rookie was on the verge of death
as one post-natal illness claimed so
but by the grace of God and medicament`s care
the infant survived: a chance delight to the near.

As feeble he was his temper was deadly high:
Even at small pretexts he threw a tantrum
and madly wanted all his whims to be prized
and fiddled with the world till they were realized.

His home bore the brunt of this hardcore imp;
the poor mother showed leniency and offered
quite undue leeway to her presumed jackpot
and doted her dear since he was mere an embryo.

His real self emerged when his calm surface was poked.
He took delight in defying what elders preached at him or told.
He loved to play a stubborn and went the whole hog like a born bold.
He had airs of a militant and sprayed filthy bullets once provoked.

He had acute consciousness of his void presumption.
Like a timid reptile he often raised his hissing hood
And hit even a lurking shadow with his empty pang;
At such futile fanatic attacks he growled and groaned.

The more he failed to steal the show here and there everywhere
The more hell-bent he grew out of sorrow and growing fear.
Drunk with the bitter juice of discontent he became more violent
Turned like an automatic gun that needs only a blank point.

His parched soul loved to suck top action thrillers.
He rejoiced at plummeting blows and random kicks.
He too was a fighter at the scenes in his daily dreams.
He was amused and puffed-up by all piteous screams.

His early teens burnt in many swirling flames
And youth is fuming on an yawning crater.
The poor mom keeps mum in utter shame.
Rookie incited himself to be an ugly terror.