“Up there he floats,
Like a walking-talking, dreaming-breathing, rosy Roman nose!
Make a silly wish,
Till the pixie dust and Tiger Lily pass you with a squish.
Glossy glassy slipper,
The maiden in his garden left how wrongly for being weaker!
Candles all are lit-
So the clueless sailors standing failures, treasures do admit,
“Ahoy, is all well?
Must we mind own sails, o Cap'n or cast on them a spell?”
“Aye mates, ye I thank-
Fetch 'em lads and watch this lass walking th' cold plank!”
“Shush now, Tinker Bell!
Can't you see it's them who stole her chest and key as well?”
Slides away his shadow,
For you to see old shooting stars that hardly kiss the meadow.
Which one will now win-
Since boy and codfish both did lose the war that gnaws within?
Bring them fiendish fact,
Let them enjoy, sing and dance with words put still intact.
Boy does rest his flutes
While bankers banter, lawmen pamper, graced in business suits:
“Drown, you water-bugs!
How much need we bawl and howl for what you trolls call “Hugs?”
“How dare you, Beastie!
How dare you hasten, charge and slaughter your own Beauty?
Did she call your name?
Did she mock you, hurt you, shun you? Did she play that game?”
Lurking logs too laugh
As girls so little, don't gown or giggle to bluff the world enough.
Finds the toddler joy,
Though we cursed and burst his bubble- scheming it to destroy.
Don't forget to scream,
When the ugly-looking goblins there try to crush your dream;
And don't you fake the look,
Lest those fire-crackers haunt you with a deadly reaping Hook!
That will lure you and will lead you where a darkling yet inhales.
Trail the stars in flame,
Since roles you chase and souls you trace, might not be the same.
Be that as it may,
Lead fast, heed not- stumbling blocks odd, debts to all repay.
Deem no man so small,
For all we mumble, toss and tumble, have our curtain call.
Hours now descend;
Then so even- never give in, never be fooled, feigning it to end.
Go on glee will sure,
As long as you don't lie or grow up, holding thoughts so pure.”
Old tales for the twins,
So drowse and die on tipsy tardy Grandpa's hand-made swings.
But boys that are lost-
Cry, “Story-mother, help us! Save us! Please, at any cost!”
“Here, here,” says the Mother,
“Let's begin the story, where nothing baffles -
Nothing befalls, nothing makes you weary!”
“Now hold on, hold on,” grunts the Father, “let me ask them, dearie!”
-“Do you believe in fairies, boys?
You do? You don't?”
-“We don't believe in fairies, Sir,
We don't! We won't!”
Nishat Atiya Shoilee is a Lecturer of English Literature at the University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh.