Love Under The Tamarind Tree

This is the  story of my school times 
When I got hooked not on drugs, but on   rhymes. 
My thoughts in the form of poetry  unfurled 
Around me, metaphors, and similes uncurled.
My head buzzed, busy like the busiest  bee
Scribbling love notes   under the school tamarind tree.  

When naively , my heart , for him on paper I poured  
With poetic superiority my dream  boy  roared.
When my sublime feelings ran pell mell
Alas , the   brute  called it a pathetic  doggerel.
Fuming and frothing,  he reprimanded me 
Mocking me, as I sat hunched  under the tamarind tree.

"Of juvenile thoughts  this is a fusion
Nothing but  delusion, crass   confusion."
Smugly opined the rhymester seventeen year old 
I shuddered , breaking out in sweat cold . 
With his verdict , I wanted to disagree
But kept mum,  under the shade of the tamarind tree. 


In a voice laced with sullen savagery 
He critiqued the heartfelt  imagery
To feel  so   nervous and  weak kneed 
Was a  sentiment  hackneyed 
He opined with malicious glee
Would my dream  'dry like a raisin' under the tamarind tree?

He rolled his vain   eyes upwards 
And minced absolutely no words
"Someone  killed  the rhythm in your poetry
Who will unravel this unique murder  mystery?".
He remarked , making  mincemeat of the poetic plea 
Of the sixteen year old  under the tamarind tree.


My feelings ah, so genuine 
To him  smacked of  saccharine 
"The metaphor could be better",
 He  said returning the  letter 
No bending down on one knee 
Before  the girl who sat  under the tamarind tree.

He had nothing but contempt for my   love note
"You are no good", he said, I shamefacedly quote .
A nincompoop that I was, pathetically meek
I was sure his remark was tongue in cheek.
He felt strangulated , though my verse was free.
My wounds I licked under the tamarind  tree.

When thus, in a voice terse,  he cursed my verse 
In wrath my   lips I   did purse 
Throwing  away the mushy poetic stuff
Wiping  a silent tear with my  shirt cuff.
He was bloated with poetic pride, you see
With lachrymose wrath, I  burst  under the  tamarind tree.

My feelings had been so ruthlessly derided 
Never again,  to love a poet , I   decided 
Never again would a rhymester stir 
Any simile or metaphor 
In  any  teenager  writing love notes  under the tamarind tree.