I neatly trim their hair
And keep them in style.
I properly size the cloth
And elegant garments make.
I deftly snap the flowery strings
And put them into the plaits of belles.
I remove all the surplusage
And adjust columns and words.
I make holes, angles and patterns
And produce festoons for every fest.
I toil for the barber and the tailor;
I labour for the florist and the editor.
I’m the pickpocket’s trusted ATM:
Soft and efficient in his nimble hands,
I land cash into his hand and a smirk onto his face.
My greatest glory lies elsewhere, though:
Not moving, with no nip, nick, or cut
I give the movies a cutting edge
And laze and doze and rest
In the tender hands of the kind censors.
[Apr 17,2009: : Hyderabad - 500 056]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you should have called this 'ODE TO THE SCISSORS'...LOL...a good composition