Hot Potatoes Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

“The quality of the potatoes come from the soil”,
Consuming myself for two hours, reading
John Galsworthy.

After All, What Else
Is There To Say?

A kind of feminine
Madness of chatter
Allen Ginsberg.

His mouth is big, a hopeless provincial
His friend cool to a degree;
Consuming myself for two hours
An outdated bourgeois novel
Stuffed into a cover, two in one,
Like sand-stone bricks.

These poems, and your characters are almost dead,
Hiding in e-books, behind foolish images on Facebook.

“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; ”
George Gordon, Lord Byron (he is there
in auto spell check)

“She wears short skirts, or pants too tight,
(if not torn) , eats greasy fries not caviar.
But she is my only love despite
Her tendency to hop on cars.”
William H. Roetzheim

Tomorrow, the first thing to do
is putting the bricks back on the wall.

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
December 18,2013.