Poetry: The Letters in Numbers

One stands alone
Two build a home
Three would exhaust a cologne

Four is her quarter sized foam
Five would ignite
Six is abandoned to roam

Seven is her jealous light
Eight is a rainy day
Nine is our cat sight.

Every potter needs clay.
A cranky wood needs spray.
We learn to be stern when we play.

Leonell
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Three birds on an earth-bound journey
One black,
The colour of rich dye
The other, red, like camwood
The last, White ,purity of Dooshima .

And so I sing
The black velvet of your skin bedazzled me
But I’m lost in the gaze of camwood’s beauty
And if I drink from the purity of Dooshima s heart
Twice as lost I will be.
Who will save me from me?

Bose
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Nine began when I was fine
Eight was close to perfection,
Seven was just to be mine.

Six taught me dictation
Five looked like my fingers
Four is the score of a relation.

Three held memories of the rangers
Two started before one.
One commander called us clinchers

Numbers tell stories and how it’s done,
they grow, then climb a stage for fun.
We learnt all of this from our teacher, the Nun

Ruddapoet
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Ten is a number that comes even
Unlike eleven, it’s never an odd clue
But half its size plus six equals eleven

Twelve makes a dozen true
Add one to that, you’d get thirteen; an age precious
Fourteen is the age a boy’s puberty starts coming through

At fifteen a girl becomes more cautious,
More aware of her monthly flow, period most men loathe
That moment when most things become nauseous

Numbers to humans depicts growth
For the boy and the girl- both
It is the active truth, devoid of lie’s lazy sloth

Snizel.