Plight of the Right

What is a roam if you never had to sway

What is a home if you've never been away

No gold mine ever existed on the surface

What is a throne if you never made a day

Food is insipid without the taste of hunger

Heaven draws its charisma from the hell down under

For one we must have, they say, once we age

The prospect of which fuels our thirst to stay younger

So toil all you want to stay in the game

You do need the vulgus to shoot up to fame

For you may be partial to one side of a coin

But the import of each is just about the same

Life has no meaning without death to fright

The failures push success just closer to our sight

Dawn stamps its glory on every passing day

For there's always shadow to reflect the very light

The Average

The moment we get conscious, we're fed off to a race

The victor is who ends with the biggest leverage

The single most influential incentive being the notion

That there's no place in world for the hackneyed average.

But the roof that keeps the storm off is only average

The broth that keeps us going is also commonplace

Why to seek the nectar when all that is required

Is a sip of sparkling water - the simplest beverage.

Average is the goal that shines amidst the glares

Average is the soul of our everyday affairs

Why to aim for heights where we start to suffocate

When the air we so desire is abundant down the stairs.

Thwarting the distant oddity of a life so beautiful

Is the blind pursuit of excellence advised by every school

A world where, supposedly, survives sole prominence

Extreme is the outlier and average is the rule.

In the Wake of the Wake-Up

He woke up in the night feeling all withdrawn

To the humming in the eardrums of a persistent horn

T’was serving as a prelude to the denouement where

A glance in the mirror showed his own self gone.

He strolled "with" the river seeking peaceful calm

Empathizing wholly as the currents grew warm

Rising in the downpour the threshold got breached

No dam then stopped the flooding of the farm.

The harvest was destroyed with nothing left to reap

The catastrophe dug out a hole so very deep

Receding waters plundered the cuttings of the drill

The hollow reverberated with what it used to keep.

The trails have long dried with the slowly passing night

The source is now devoid of any zeal to fight

Piercing through the mountains, the heavens threw his shadow

Wrapping his alter ego it now shines bright.

Season's Greetings

In the dungeons deep within,  I felt a fierce uprising

Living amidst the reserved, it was a bit surprising

Overwhelming emotions and romance of the spring

Vented open the affection I tried so hard disguising.

Ending the run of silence, I finally dared to bare

Years of honest liking- untouched by any air

Outpouring with verve the ice was promptly broken

United in the meltdown, that summer was so rare.

Preoccupied by notions, I passed my days in bliss

Rough autumn defoliated the warmth in every kiss

A quirk of fate so unkind was never seen before

Tired of the fall, I gave the bash a miss.

In the wake of recent events,  I chose to stay at bay

Bequeathing every shire that came along my way

Hidden in every inception is a devious chilling story

And even though it has ended, the winter’s here to stay.

Blast from the Past

The faded look across this winter window

Reflects the enchanting memories from the past

Trapped in the midst of the forlorn droplets 

I can see them disappearing fast.

The innocent pride over a bruised knee

The incredible joy in the windows we broke

Replacing these emotions in a breathtaking pace

Are the horrors of a rat race around the clock.

A halt at "thadi" for all the answers

Clinical disregard for semester grades

Violently cut is that nonchalant attitude

Too sharp are today's blades.

Ensconced among the din of chaos

Resides solitude in an invisible cloak

Haunted are the lanes of memory

And ghosts from the past don't smoke.

The Cause Not Lost

Quest for the unknown is always a little frail

The overlooking destiny sets it further pale

The voyage is on course with no way to bail

The shores are fast calling but today I choose to sail.

The challenge is big but the will is even bigger

To withstand the urges from a fate so very eager

The overcast failures portray a sorry figure

I may be down now – but just to jump with vigor.

With all the odds against me I dare to once explore

The veracity of the despair I heard in every lore

It may just be worthless – like others were before

But the sheer sense of purpose is worth dying for.

The day will come when I will be done

Resisting the slumber which spares no one

But Today I wake up, today I run

Today I fight for the ever-sinking sun.

The Tourist

The platform was set, the carpets were laid

The reception was intimated, the trumpets were played

Pompous was the arrival, worthy of every gaze

Amidst a lot of fanfare, he took the centrestage.

With so much to take in, with so much to learn

He set off seeking erudition on every possible turn

Basking in the affection, the innocence and the zest

He loaded his gear for the upcoming arduous quest.

With the advent of the highway, his spirits beamed with glory

Laden with a dream to script his own story

The pace was boldly fixed on maximum possible throttle

His glass was always full and courage immortal.

With every passing milestone, he lost track of time

Enthusiasm was a virtue well past its prime

With monotony creeping in and a steady dependence on potions

He clinically displayed his dexterity in going through the motions.

Dwelling in fatigue, he pulled out of the race

With nothing left to conquer and nothing novel to face

As he pulled his legs up for the divine eternal rest

His halo made its way towards the lower dusky west.

He revisited his adventures through benediction and plague

The original purpose of his odyssey suddenly looked so vague

The cognition of the fact gave wings to his fascination

That the journey in itself was the final destination.

Its a Wonderful Life?

With cries and shrieks, this peculiar journey begins

Still blessing our eyes to meet only the violins

From the time of its first sight till the moment it closes

But as they quite often say, life's not a bed of roses.

Stabbed by despair, we curse our existence

Inadvertently crawling with laudable persistence

Ignoring all elixirs lying untouched in the bowl

We let ourselves slip into a big black hole.

Engulfed in the dark tunnel, the sorrows raise a tide

Hoping the light at the end will force it to subside

We march into the future for emancipation and respite

But possessing our shadow - it just burns bright.

The pathway to beatitude is not difficult to tread

Drizzles of joy would wash the ashes shed

If we open our souls and stop aiding the pain

The shire within, would show up green again.