Oye Grand-Dad!

*This poem was composed for Berni, on his 31^st birthday, for those of you who don't get poetry innit, do you know what I mean?*

Today Berni is 31
That’s 30 years of perfection, plus one
Look at him there, accomplished sportsman
Cycling, knocking the miles one after one
But now it’s safety first grand-dad man!
At your age, up-hill is no longer an option (read opshan)

But you are still virility at its prime
And number 31 is prime
In our hearts will always be your shrine
We’ll adore you always, be it in rain or sunshine
Without you all women will sure decline
Only you can bring ‘em happiness so sublime
To your charms they’ll always incline

But at 31 it is time you dismounted
Before you get ousted
Due to old age and long lasted
Roaming about in bushes; belt unfastened
If she knew, your Mum will be dumbfounded
And your lovely nieces will be astounded
But to us you’re simply adoration unbounded

Berni goes to the US

*This poem was inspired by my lovely friend Berni. After finishing his PhD, I learnt that he was heading for the US for a post-doctoral placement - Harvard, no less.*

I learnt that Berni is leaving
For the US he is heading
In his research field, he’ll be leading
But am not sure how he’ll be feeling
Away from the mates and Salome’s feeding

I know I will never go there
Because it fills me with dread and scare
That country is too far and gossip is rare
Besides I’m not sure I can afford the fare
And to be honest, am not in total despair

I will miss Berni though, sure I will
For memories of photo sessions haunt me still
And times of laughter and cycling uphill
Even though his ego sometimes went downhill
I’ll always prescribe my praise as a pill

Webcam Eyes

*This poem was inspired by my lovely friend Piotr. We were in the same college at Cambridge and were even housemates for 3 years at Bateman Street! This poem was inspired by an MSN conversation we had about his students and research project (something to do with webcam eyes!£%$#?). The conversation itself was only about 3 lines, as he was incredibly un-cooperative with my efforts to extract information from him.*

Piotr said he cannot remember faces
Even those of his most brilliant aces
No wonder he looks like he’s living in mazes
Not knowing silk from wool from laces

I wanted to write a poem about his supervisions
And I needed provisions
But he was about as helpful as a bunch of pigeons
And I felt like I was in a prison
So I used muffins to avoid further collisions

Then he said he is interested in what he does
Does that mean he is mad if he does?
I think it does
So I told him it’ll be sung in bars
And everyone in Britain will know him as
Piotra the Webcam Eyes

Curry pan is the plan

*This poem was inspired by a reunion trip to Cambridge, where me and my lovely friend Anna decided to go back there and pay a visit to the Natesans; Senthil Natesan is another lovely friend who, at the time, had only recently got married to lovely Selva. Again, Anna and Senthil went to the same college as me and were also my housemates for 3 years at Bateman Street!.*

Got an email from Anna
She wanted to know the plan
Because we’d agreed we were gonna
Go to Cambridge to visit the clan

It wasn’t like Jude and Sienna
Were awaiting us there with a glorious tan
Will more likely be Piotra, Saloma & Natesan
Together with lovely Selva and a curry pan

Salomania

*This poem was inspired by my lovely friend Salome. We were in the same college at Cambridge and were also housemates for 3 years at Bateman Street! The occasion of this poem was her move to a new flat after 3 un-interrupted years at Bateman!.*

Today Salome has moved out
To her new flat she is happy to go
Where there will be a big lounge
To a fridge, freezer and oven who could say no?

She has always been our shining stah
Cooking away in her kitchen and feeding us all
What would have become of us without hah
We would have ceased to breathe and all

In the gym she blasts her energy
In Bateman she creates synergy
Losing her today is no doubt a tragedy
For which college owes us an apology

But she will be with Berni
Who is a cure for any agony
He is nobody’s enemy
With her cooking, she will nourish his anatomy
With his shiny helmet, he will illuminate her astronomy

Ladies & Gentlemen; Berni has left the Bateman

*This poem was inspired by the ever delightful Berni, we were college- and house-mates at Cambridge. After 3 years occupation of room 157 at Bateman Street, he was kicked out and was forced to find a new flat to live..*

Like a beam of light, in the night
Berni enters like a knight
From the window site

Carrying the drinks
He makes an entrance
Which so impresses the chicks
That they and him embrace

He is a mega mate
He often leaves the women in a state
But his ego never inflates
I’d rather have him than a super estate

Whatever you want he’ll do
Whatever you wear he’ll join in too
He is always in a photo
Looking like he won the Loto

Today comes the day when he has to leave
He has been packing all eve
Grieve, Bateman will have to grieve
For a man of his calibre is hard to retrieve