My day Blogging

It was a bright sunny day, and I wanted to rhyme,

Driving in style, little rash, as I was short on time.

Bike punctured, 5 km from office gate,

Boss was waiting, with files, as I was late

 

Murming, I went to the wash room,

And dusted off my dirty attire,

Come back and welcomed my boss’s satire,

“Learn to value time, wasting it is a crime”

I had to say sorry, all he said is, “Fine”

 

I scolded him quietly,

No voices in my horrifying shouts.

Well, after few irritating fights with excel cells,

I relaxed, to get over my boss’s yell.

 

Open my notepad, to write something cool,

Rolling me, my life, I feel like fool

I was unsure about what to write,

What a good topic can be,

 

I wanted to be funny and the topic is me,

What a wayward life it has been,

A girlfriend who always want time, disperse,

And no money for parents, which I can spare,

Clients are never happy, whatever I perform

I am in for a blunder, need major reform

 

So many issues, is there a fix?

Its time, once again, its dot on six

I fight with these thoughts, and look for a way

So I packed my bag and I was off for the day.

Sea to Cross.. (my tribute to friends)

young boy , sea , sand

Far ahead, where i can see

It ate the sun, so vast is “SEA”

I have a  “prone to sunk” broken boat,

Accompanying  my wayward thoughts.

These marks i have left on the sand

soon they will dis appear

so will be the anxiety, and my fear.

i have a sea to cross..

but let me feel my feet first

it would be dark, till i reach,

because i have whales to face

and i have waves to breach,

the sand is dusty, path is rusty

but i am born to win..

i have a sea to swim..

What it is that i want form life?

My head has always been wondering as to,

what it is, that keeps me rolling, that makes me get up and feel an urge to run?

What it is that i want form life?

Obvious choices are one money and immediate second is fame with a lap of only few seconds. Money is to have a life style that we always wanted, and then fame to Live, even after you are dead. On bare reading this sounds a little mean to me, but if i be honest, most human on this earth would crave for this.

Want to see, if my mindset matches yours. Please give your opinion:

 

 

 

Conversation with a fellow blogger…. :)

7 Responses to poets and photographers

  1. i am a poet, and i save the world every day..
    i burn till dawn and i fight with dark…
    thoughts are my bow and words are my arch

  2. Metaphors need to compare,
    whats there for illusion,
    Imagination to string,
    and one “love” to sing.
    God grace, and parents smile
    and some other worldly matters,
    a hard to reach, traveled mile,
    one heart won, one dream shattered.
    So lets just dance, without compare,
    and share your story, now and here.

    • poetjena says:

      Poets and archers alike, the love
      played out on their strings,
      pure enough to make gods
      gracious. Where bewilderment
      is great, illusion is no laughing matter,
      on hard worn paths with harder
      won battles. I’ll share you some
      arrows from my here and now.
      Let’s not forget the slings.
      Stories only. No broken dreams.

      • I have seen the arch, they miss the aim,
        Poets fall to dust, with their entire name
        Illusions, I don’t laugh about, they fade
        God is grace all around, in all its jade
        I welcome your arrows & the stories brought
        No poets will be born, if no dream were broke