Things i couldn’t Beat

Often have I scampered FASTER than what I’ve known as usual for ME,

Nevertheless I still couldn’t get ahead of neither LUCK nor TIME.

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Poem

A poem caught inside my heart,

It’s lines stuck on my lips,

Words refuse to sit on paper ,

Fluttering around like butterflies,

So long have I waited, my dear,

To write your name on this sheet of paper,

Cos your name would be more than enough,

What better poem can there be?

Weaver

I wish I could learn a trick or two from this Weaver friend,

Having often seen him working the warp,

Whenever a thread snaps or ends,

He simply ties it to some other,

And begins to weave again,

But the real catch is in his weave,

No one can see the knots,

So ,Teach me dear Weaver friend of mine,

I have woven so many relations in my life,

Yet all the knots remain clearly visible.

God

You must have been hurt God,

When while praying I yawned,

Tired of this thought embedded in a prayer,

For ever since I could see and hear I remember being told,

That our days and nights are at your mercy,

And in your hand lies everything,

” Pray to him!”,

Though Strange is this notion of praying,

This futile one sided dialogue with someone,

Someone who’s face is imagined and so is the proof of his existence.

Tug of war

Sometimes I feel this life is a one sided tug of war,

Though it would have been a different matter if it’s one end was given to me,

Strange is the one on the other end, stronger than me and can’t even be seen.

Pain

Pain just stays for a little while, not for too long,

Just like a leaf broken from its branch which dries up in a few days,

How long can this pain survive once severed from its limb?

When it’s strength begins to ebb,

It will flare for a while before it has to flicker away,

And then with a long smoky last breath it will die,

The pain too comes to an end,

After all pain stays just for a little while, not for long…

Friend

I went through the day,

With no friends to help,

A stranger even to myself,

A feeling of tiredness mixed with a trifle of sad,

Ending my day by the sea I returned to the same empty home,

On the same silent deserted street , empty and all alone.

But as soon as I open the door,

The book on the table gently flutters,

As if to say

” You’re late today, my friend!”