I believe I can triumph

I believe I can triumph over we,

but where and who am I,

ever fleeing, am I just a flea?

that won’t bite or die;

 

days lengthen and so do nights

go without toil,

while victors share the spoil,

I am lost in inner fights;

 

Do I have a place in the we

do I really belong any place at all

I ponder over nightly hours in the wee

without true pride is there no fall?

 

whatever I am is not for today,

may be tomorrow is my day.

 

Laughter’s Son

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Resources of mind, soul and body drain,
mental laziness renders the creative pond dry,
I find no drop to fill however hard I try,
no spark of lightning, no hope for rain;

I move dead slow with tortoise brain,
never I come out of shell, I am shy,
but at times I let inhibitions fly,
I lie low, never serious, ever in playful vein;

I enjoy life and all is fun,
and I seem so to those around,
away from the pond I run,
to escape the ridicule of the hound;

I’ve chosen to be laughter’s son,
so I silence the inner sound.

Little Boy

Little boy sweet and shy,
what joy with wings to fly,
in innocent dreams up very high,
at your feet happiness does lie;

but what use, joy had yet unknown,
the memories fade  into oblivion,
you know no miseries,
all seem to be mysteries;

you made of pure innocence,
enlighten many by your presence,
you still blinded by ignorance,
teach us great lessons,

you’ll soon part your ways,
not  knowing ahead what lays,
if I’ve to choose my days,
I’ll choose my childhood rays.