Cursive Handwriting I write my death certificate one cursive letter at a time, On a beautiful paper, with a colorful ink, and with a sweet rhyme, I write that with all the sweet poisons I invented, Loaded with the protein and all the intelligence, I gathered. I looked, and found there is a crowd gathering of all the I. In this school, the teacher gets ready to teach me, how to write. I am all dressed in uniform with a dream to invent the beauty, sharp and bright, To contribute, to define more I, a little more insanity fight. I know someday like that outdated phone, my I will bite the dust, With all the colors, all the curves, it will be over with all those note That I wrote in my amazing cursive letters that I was taught There will be a newer model of I, with new idioms, new cursive writing that some younger I wrote. I see those mutative cells and the cursive genes, my friend investigates I see the cursors that my intelligent friend writes to express the data traits I see the curvatures of the chips, the HLS design my friend produces, I see the synaptic dances of the electrochemical my neurologist friend models. All those cursive beautiful certificates are written letter by letter, On a colorful paper and a beautiful pen with a dazzling ink that glitter, I wonder why these curves, why not simple straight lines to follow, But that is the nature of everything, we are given this hollow To live, grow and then die full of uncertain turns Where the space is dark and gradients are unknowns. Barun K. Pani, 11/13/2014 (We love our children, who are growing up and asking us difficult questions. One of my friend’s son was sad that his dad’s hand writing is not cursive and as good as he expects. That prompted me to write this poetry. Children teach us so much!)
Posted on: Thu, 13 Nov 2014 15:42:39 +0000
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