The Nose That Begs For A Poem Poem by Raj Arumugam

overture on the nose


the nose is the
middle member
of the Face Quartet
or Sestet, if you like;
a trumpet perhaps
or a bass horn




1

'Have you ever considered, '
says my nose
while in the shower,
'how crucial I am
in your life? '


I do not answer
and ignore my nose
and let some shampoo
trickle down over it


'And yet you ignore
me and you write poems
of the tongue
that has got you into trouble
too often'



I continue to ignore
my nose
who is now beginning
to sound like a spouse
jealous of a rival lover



and my nose flares its wings
looking as wild as the nose of a mad bull:
'Why don’t you write
a poem about me
and let the world
know my role
in your body and life? '


and then it calms down
and sounds most seductive:
'For who will blow your trumpet
if you will not blow your own? '



'...and I even, ' it continues,
'like Atlas holds up the world,
I hold up the frame and glasses
so that your eyes can see better'



I continue to ignore
my nose
and its attempts to guilt me into gratitude
and into a poetic mood;
and I finish my shower
and give it a good hard rub
with the towel
and I can hear it grunt:
'Ouch! That hurts!
I’ll get you back one day
when I’m in a runny mood! '



2

but I’ll tell you, my gentle friend,
though I’ve never met you
except at these websites
I’ll confide in you
what I may not tell my nose




all my life
though endowed -
as you looking at
my outdated website picture
will most surely agree -
though endowed
all my life I’ve been with
a most alluring visage
it’s been marred
by - by -
need I say it, dearest friend–
need I say it?
by my horrendous, outrageous nose!


my nose looks like a bell in the middle
and makes as much loud noise;
its sides flare out like wings
and oh, it looks like it’d take off any time;
some days it collapses
and most days it is broad and wide
and quite blatantly dominates the face;
tell me then, how could one love
such a nose?
and with such a protuberance
how could one ever walk in public
with one’s nose in the air?


ah, my nose breaks my spirit
and I walk, like some jilted lover,
with eyes to the ground
ashamed of my nose



3
Oh, the first girl I had ever
fallen in love with
who was eighteen and I was ten
when I confessed my eternal love
for her;
and she looked at me
pointed at my nose
and she laughed
like a witch
and she cackled:
'Look at your nose!
It is broad and flares
like a bull’s
and it’s brown
and you’ve got a pimple on either side
like you’ve got nose rings!
and it’s so big on your face
one could say:
your nose is your face
and your face is the nose! '






Ah, how could I be angry with that angel?
- for she only spoke the truth
and she only said what I had always suspected;
and since then
I have lived with the infamy
and shame and agony and tension
as Cyrano de Bergerac must have felt
belittled by his large nose
and ridiculed and shamed;
and I for a broad nose




and so all through life
this nose of mine has brought me
shame and loss of opportunity;
Bollywood Directors
have rejected me for an unsightly nose:
'Oh, every part of you perfect;
but your nose too broad
and when heroine dances
audience will only look at your nose! '
and the Hollywood Directors
took one good look at my countenance
and they said:
'Don’t call us; we’ll call you…
Meanwhile, go blow your nose! '





4
Oh, how then can one sing of such a nose,
dearest friend?
I mean,
I’m not endowed with such
an elegant or aquiline
or most sculpted nose as you are,
am I?
I mean, many have Greek noses
or Alexandrian or a noble hawk nose
or exotic Nubian
or spiritual Indian
but I, I – poor me, pity me -
I must keep company with those with a snout or snub…




I mean
it’s as if my nose was an afterthought
when Nature sneezed and so closed her eyes
as she pinched the clay on my face
to form a nose
and so ruined the work;
whereas you, Oh you most elegant friend
at this website,
whereas your nose
is the very first act in God’s
creation of the world...





and that is why
I do not sing of my undeserving nose
though a necessary nose;
but I’m sure as I key in this
verse of complaint and lament
my broad cunning nose
though unable to see the text
must surely smell,
being quite a nosey-parker,
what I do
and suspect
something fishy being published in cyberspace….






conclusion on the nose


the nose is sexy
in one’s youth;
but is as a dried tree stump
as the years go by