யார் வீட்டு கல்யாணத்துக்கோ நான் மாப்பிளை என நினைத்து போய் கை சுட்டு வந்த கோமாளி நான்.
I went to some stranger’s wedding thinking myself as the groom and got burnt, such a fool am I.
[This saying is a result of an incident. I love kids, who doesn’t, and was invited to the sports day in my mom’s play school. I waltzed in as an owner instead of the observer I was supposed to be and got embarrassed.]
I don’t like the view,
I want to review,
and move to a city like Bangalore,
I hate my life,
dull with little strife,
the strife there is,
hard to miss,
sit on made up dead beat cashier’s role,
rather be in a dug hole,
a commitment I made,
shall fulfil and not trade,
but why supposed training,
that makes it more paining,
too late to turn,
time now to earn,
repute and money,
sweet as honey,
yet bitter the path,
what a blood bath,
let harsh winds blow,
I won’t stoop low,
raw me has to slowly ease,
in to the role with peace,
but do it in my own style,
for this is the last mile,
soon complaints be gone,
and it will be a new dawn,
for what matters is the journey,
and not winning the tourney.
My family, the veritable cornucopia,
for all material needs,
not for emotions, falling short of utopia,
to succeed, not enough my deeds,
inertia hold me in its chasm,
gripped by its octopus tentacles,
lazy me not wanting out of the spasm,
each passing day tightens the shackles,
lazier I get, tougher to come out,
need a miracle, a lighted candle won’t do,
from within me change should sprout,
must make the paralysed limbs move,
not rebel but move to the cornucopia’s tune,
and find joy within the existing context,
what use to search meaning in an ancient rune,
when can fulfil needs laid bare in clear text.
There is delicious ice cream in the fridge,
but what occasion, who to share it with,
I am alone but that is water under the bridge,
work hard and your dreams come true is a myth;
I can work for hours and days with words
but other mundane works I despise
doing chores for mom or to feed the birds
my life is dull and boring without a surprise;
tomorrow will be right is the mantra we live by,
but nothing changes hope is a blatant white lie,
distant dreams but life is over, time does fly,
little had of listless surrender to the heart’s cry;
come what may I won’t allow distress be my mistress,
will win the war to be the undisputed king of my fortress.
(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
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
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?