Don with a Key

a poem by Purushothaman P V

You raised your hands above your head
Don’t say your hands superior to your head
The hands acted as pawn of your head
Blame the head if your hands did some misdeeds

When your hands pluck a sprouting flower from its bud
Your hands didn’t see thorns alongside the flower
And if your hands got hurt by thorns, blame your head
As it never taught you how to avoid hurting by yourselves

You let loose your tongue without control
It hurts everyone and your tongue did all harms
All the blames never come to your tongue
As it goes against you and your head will hang in shame

You need two hands to clap
Don’t try to clap with one hand
If you try to clap with one hand
Every one thinks you are pestered with pests

Your good name not written on your forehead
It’s written on your words and deeds
Don’t spoil your name by naming others with bad names
Or else you will be known in your own bad names

Be on the queue like every one else
Notwithstanding nobody noticed you while on queue
If you go beyond the line with your own queue
Thousands of eyes will cue you and boo you out

Don’t make catcalls in any music extravaganza
The music get adulterated with your lousy noise
Don’t make the feast of music as a feast for rowdies
Else you will be known as don adding a key to it

When you seal your good name in a dark room with your don key
Unlock it with a light key and let the all brighter rays inside
You can see everything in black and white
Add color to it to feel the rainbow