Go away, silly one

Go away, silly one, that don’t know of loss,

dub yourself loser, leave joker, laughter not here,

wailed a lady in crowd, all noise did pause,

now clad colourful, old black dresses didn’t smear;

I spoke, I lost but a dream, not living, loving soul,

came not to mourn or share, yet I do care,

gone days of joy, nights of sleep, dreams stole,

gone thunder, rain, rainbow and lighting’s glare;

what desert, as gone the sand beneath my feet,

gone breeze, even mighty sea without time to see,

gone sweet home, now a thorn, my last retreat,

no refuge, no place known to shelter, nowhere to flee;

innocence lost, ignorance cost, spoilt forecast, time flew fast,

gone courage, morals, little laurels, tears and laughter,

gone stories, movies, idle banter, carefree canter of past,

know not where all went, my life spent, grew softer;

pride, confidence, dreams gone with skill and wisdom,

never lost any near and dear, just lost an empty dream,

not compare losses, my misery trifle, akin to boredom,

you lost forever, loved ones, to death, time’s stream;

music, song, poems and prose scribbles died long ago,

forgot drinks, dinners, friends with just cigarette in hand,

didn’t love a soul, lost none, yet your grief with me grow,

despite troubles and sorrow, your feet planted firm on land;

for you love and so live, I merely forgive, you strive, you give,

give your thought and action calmly to those that remain,

those gone, a strong memory, you forever mourn and grieve,

parent, sibling, child or friend, leave void, stain uncleared by strain;

but folks enshrined in history to pavement dweller has to leave,

all love, except vile like me that can’t, from terrorist to rapist,

even I can’t deny being loved, a love that can’t be worn on sleeve,

gone sun, stars, days and nights, not the memory in our midst;

cherish memory with tears or laughter,

dead find lease in your memories, yet how long,

perish with you, you a memory, ones in your’s, lost chapter,

no matter, unsought immortality, till lasts hear love’s song;

Go away confused one, come when know what you want, what to say,

let us in peace pray, why without clarity or purpose, you here stray?

(This is partly done and shall be continued in future posts)

 

 

 

 

Cunning is life

(This is an interesting effort, that mentions 4 sports easy to identify, those that do can mention as soon more tougher ones will be added making it a sort of a riddle)

Cunning is  life
moves and countermoves
never knew
all forces fought
Queens came and went
Valiant Knights shielded
all for me.

Am I a king?

I had an open hand
while others camouflaged
what could they do
with their two pair,
even full houses
made excuses
for dirty tricks.

Did I command a royal flush?

Then why at last
it is me against a wall
a tight squeeze,
my very own force
all source of my strength
pitted against me.

Is this conduct warning?

I once wanted
all coins on board
my aim never precise
the strike lacked force
yet never empty pocket
slowly I fix my gaze
as time draws near
on that final coin.

Will I have a follow-on or will I be a pauper?

Robot

Blog. Log. Slog. Clog. Bog.
Lag. Snag. Drag. Me a Rag.
Can’t Shrug. Blog a drug.
Cling. Cring. Yet Bring Zilch.
High Strung. Few Wrung Likes.
Like, Strike Same. Like Pity Seem.
Strangers All. Dangers None.
Except Indifference. No Warmth.
No Friends. No Love. No feelings.
Blogger. Human, Moron or Robot.

Love’s Grammar

Love is there in their hearts.
But where is the talk.
Isn’t spoken word, medium of love.
I am alone. But I have a phone.
It isn’t the same but would suffice for me.
For I am alone. Whom to call. What to say.
For I need an excuse to talk.
I too – have, had, don’t, have, do – a girl friend.
I don’t call it love. Why is love – I love my wife and kids – alone. Why can’t there be more.

Enough – one question –

Is love singular or plural?

Love and Beauty

Where night ends, day begins,
every beginning has an end,
why is it? My love, my friend,
all waste to end in dustbins;

you are all my kith and kin,
beauty, love and affection blend,
my dirtied conscience,
rusted soul you rinse;

your eyelids open just to close,
but then opens freshly again,
in the seas the waves rose,
only to subside without any gain;

your beauty, youth, style and poise,
shall also end much to my strain.

What Dreams

What dreams, what thoughts, make a man lonely,
for what, didn’t all, come from the same press only,
or what deeds are that, that make a man lonely,
in truth, is there any one holy, or really lonely;
is it mere melancholy, there’s no such thing as ugly,
why should you talk, when I don’t listen,
why should I be loved by any one,
when I see, only myself truly;
come here, not for me, nor my thoughts,
for am I worthy of you in any way,
yet come, for the times, when you miss
someone, near, dear or far away;
or yet when you feel unvalued
or even desolate and lonely,
for my tunes though unloved,
might just make you see the light.

 

Selfish Giant

What weird puzzle to try,
a stone or a heart ran dry,
self possessed, deaf to others’ cry,
in a selfish world thoughts fly;

suspicious, self piteous, stupid, shy,
revolting civilization and society’s pry,
frustrated by routine and common fry,
still the need to share strongly weigh;

unheard is the heart’s stammer,
unseen the glow of the new moon,
giggling at the thoughtless murmur,
fun filled invisible shadow at noon;

unable to learn world’s grammar,
is giant’s thoughts thorns in dune.

Where So Fast?

  1. My hero is untalented and slow, yet cannot be defeated as he runs in the opposite direction.
  2. Everyone runs hard for money, for themselves and their children; one asked  my hero, why do you always stand when I see you here; he too runs in paths not easily seen, in the hope to teach people to walk.
  3. We dedicate all our life to earn money, when to spend; Oh! our children, but we’ve taught them also to earn, then who will spend?
  4. The people of today run on the dictum of society and call themselves successful or on the path of success, they see no other choice, a few see a choice to be restful; yet run to teach others sense and in hope that one day we may all sit together.
  5. You have no choice if you are born poor but you have a choice not to die so is the greatest lie of all, the few that make it lose their happiness and life and the rich don’t have it easy either, they are afraid of being poor.
  6. Even the most liberal of parents burden their children when it comes to education, do institutions give true education; the generation before us had a life, we at least had a childhood, but what of the poor kids today?
  7. Parental affection is the truest thing in the world, but parental responsibility is the reflection of what peers in society may say and so parents stifle their children; this is the major reason progress is slow.
  8. Good kids are those with good marks, good youths are those with great earnings with or without marks and great adults are those with money or have kids of aforesaid qualities.
  9. Money isn’t happiness. What is? A family of three dining quietly in Marriott or a simple extended family dinner, bragging to a friend on whatsapp and having the most likes on facebook, or a hilarious meeting of neighborhood friends.
  10. All we need to teach our children is not to listen to the rants of those around and find their true self but when we ourselves are the ones ranting the most in the guise of guiding them, how will they ever truly find themselves and happiness.

Inner Adventure

People hang from the Eiffel,
some tumble from the Everest,
these brave souls baffle,
even morons of least interest;

they tread the trodden,
risky yet with guides and ropes,
crazy paths yet beaten,
they belong to sane corps;

some dare paths less tread,
like Frost, Keats, that others dread,
yet truly crazy bare their chests out,
and pray for a bullet’s shout;

like true adventure worth the bullet is Che’s slack,
a path not white, not grey but brave black.