IRONY

POEM

Under the speeding ceiling fan

I lie tired

right from the noon.

The exhausted fan 

working overtime wreaks its 

anger and vengeance

spitting fire on me

making me restless 

and extinguishes

my flame of desire to have a sound sleep.

The windows are

kept open

let in heat waves

of the searing summer Sun make me

thirsty, keep my mouth dry

despite drinking profusely since hours. 

The intensity with which

the needles of summer Sun

penetrates me and I convulse

with excruciating pain.

Now I pray for the Rain-God

to bless me with torrential rains

and the fun is that

each monsoon drives me angry

and sad after raining non-stop 

disturbing my peace of mind and patience.