Our stomach sounds swishingly every morning
When the relish of delicious food gets struck to nose.
Hence, unprecedentedly we sit around dining-table
Being ratty and with unsquashable hunger to eat.
And our pretty grandmother lifts her stick up seeing our gobbets
Or watching us gobbling throughout the banquet.
And to escape her anger we rush out of door;
So, banteringly she says, 'Perhaps you must not spare the flies'.
Though no flies we notice to fly around.
But it amazes us when she comments-
'Don't break my heart, O demons! let them remain alive'.
'You must slay their heads before I dive! '
And our immature wit stumbles to realize
The meaning, that never recurs in our head.
But we have not relinquished our belief in her yet
To extract the truth out of flowery beauty of her speech.
So, an alluring sizzle when had made us enter into
One day the kitchen, thoroughly we looked into
The glasses, the dishes, the pots to find out
The mystery of her speech, or what she says about.
But we were failed to deploy the truth.
Hence, one day we were provided those dishes
Hidden into grandmother's ancient boxes.
And at the end of feast we noticed some flies lay on them-
Utterly dead and spiritless; but trying to fly upon wings.
So, our oval faces turned white and mouth open!
Seeing the flies, overwhelmed forever in her speech.
It were the flies, curved by grandmother on dishes!
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Comments about this poem (Mysterious Flies by Pijush Biswas )
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