Journey Half Done

Journey half done when there was a pause. Rested a while stretching my limbs. For I was tired longing, carried around in the palanquin. Travelled on loving hands and shoulders as a baby and kid. Did walk on my two feet for a while as adult before crashing and burning. Accident prone, carried by others from then. Even dependent leaped time and again from shallow rock to rock or risked jump from a mountain, to grasp success, wiping away shame to justify existence. Alas, learnt too late I was to be forever failure’s child. Not a bad fate really, for more joy had resting in its shade than pining and tiring after success. Successful run hardest reaping benefits. Yet know the hut of happiness opens to both the same. Accepting defeat and solitude without life partner, leave no legacy in the form of heir or achievement or a lifetime of work to benefit others. My life view is a disaster but it is my all. Imparting it will be a treachery I dare not cast upon my vilest foe. Long back scribbled verses advising my daughter of my dreams. Words cast forth were alien to my being yet attempt to dissuade her from my fate or fate I wished for and implore her to a path world scorned. This counsel may be idiocy yet can be held in the recess of mind as one goes through life. An alternate never pursued yet ever held and used in need.

Focused toiling ants feed, so do hopping grasshoppers,

slow, steady tortoises may win, as fast, lazy hares lose,

what if hare’s nap worth the prize of tortoise toppers,

accept reality, never chase, for joyous the cruise.



Why chase a star

Why chase a star, just gaze,

See fireflies glow brighter,

Thrill of chase, fame’s daze,

Quit to find world lighter,

welcome any unwilled success on your path,

never tire by walking to it, don’t desire,

joy and pain, a random chore like the daily bath,

burn bright each morn even as night douses the fire.

Not odd

Not odd, refuted god, in today’ sensible science,

if chaos our origin, no blame in my chaotic life,

sought god in despair though, unheard my lines,

troubled times yet innocent rhymes, why such strife;

faith good, yet not had willing, held me wise,

need god in life yet just dust after end my belief.


Few new murder mysteries


Been a while since the last post to post something other than a so called poem. I like stories of detectives solving crimes, hard boiled typical ones. In search of them I stumbled on a few that weren’t typical and yet I didn’t grudge them. When heard of Rowling writing these under a pet name Robert Galbraith, pounced. First one was okay but really couldn’t keep reading subsequent ones for it didn’t impress much. Anyway the books mentioned here aren’t the typical mysteries but very gripping tales with great style and narration.

Secret Place – Tana French

Not so normal family

Sharp Objects