Turning Of Table Poem by Suhail Kakorvi

He takes pleasure in tormenting me
you will have pity on me if you see
He knows well how to copy in Pen drive
Difficult for me to that arrive
I do not know, for that is my heaves
His laughing in his sleeves
He poses to do so
Elements of naughtiness grow
But he puts excuses which me shatter
That computer refuses to copy matter
And I am dumb founded
Perturbs that my head
If I ask him to do something
For him that is entertaining
Very important and urgent
I say and meant
He shows that he is listening very attentively
He from my commands sets himself free
Urgency and importance
He blots out hence
Needed no eraser
Source of his pleasure
When I approach him
Not fast but I skim
On my inquiry his looks are blank
As motionless water in a tank
Stares at me as if he tries
To search in his surmise
'What 'when he expresses
Creates for me a mess
Helpless I could only repent
As old cloth rent
There lies his pleasure
Pretends he grips him fear
My remorse tickles his sense
On the other side I am tense
Sometimes when I ask him to after duty hours stay
I with no other option but in wait sway
I seek at particular juncture help
He considers me then only a whelp
He switches off mobile phone
And I wait for its ringtone
Reaches he his home
While poor I roam
Just to feel the reaction switches on devise
Presumes my call, eating a morsel of rice
Gives news that he is at home far and away
Beyond my reach makes me gray
Next meeting he waits, to be grim
Becomes more rejoicing for him
Obviously I scold in fret
That is for me a set net
He holds morbid pleasure then
Remains designedly silent with delight on Ben
He cant help that specific feature
Which becomes part of his nature
Just by chance I find a clue
Of his romantic hue
And that silenced my anxiety
So now I am happy very happy