Missing a Friend

12 missed calls, from 5 different friends,

No response, or busy tone, we were at wits ends.

The matter was urgent, a Friday night party,

That a regular was missing, was a cause for anxiety.

He's a mouse at his home, his leg we used to pull,

Without him attending, the quorum wasn't full.

We shot on wide angle, all the gathered friends,

And shared over WhatsApp, to cajole and make amends.

The message wasn't received, the blue tick didn't come,

We celebrated in nearby restaurant, while he was perhaps lonesome.

Our outrage was justified, why ignore us all,

Was our celebration secondary, to some official call?

As the party drew to an end, a message was received,

My connection was down, please don't feel aggrieved.

Hunting For An Answer

How are you? Doing great!

I blurt out inanity, in a mindless state. 

How's work? As great as ever!

I struggle for an answer, substantial or clever. 

The work is tepid, I'm lying fallow,

If I don't speak the truth, am I a lying fellow?

Is it OK to dump, my feelings on others,

Are you really keen to know, what I'm doing brothers?

I rarely do something, I wait and watch,

When the game appears, I take the game up a notch.

Striking strong, when the opportunity strikes,

I conserve my energy, for the occasional spikes. 

I should answer happy and feasting, if I play by the books,

But hungry, on the prowl and wasting, is how most of my day looks.

Using the 3 Rs

You get defined by your choices, of what you read,

The libraries you visit, the bookshelves you need. 

You vote with your money, the books you buy,

Shape the man you become, by and by.

You get defined by your choices, of what you write,

Whether its healing or humorous, or hits with a bite. 

You may choose to be inspired, write once in a blue moon,

But to depend on a masterpiece, is to risk oblivion soon.

You get defined by your choices, of the math you do,

Whether you believe in zero-sum games, or make 1+1 more than 2.

You may calculate like a pro, or you may prefer to start from zero, 

If you can balance what is yours, with whats of others, you are a hero.

Reading wRiting aRithmetic, are more than skills or a pastime, 

If you don't let them define you - it would be a heinous crime.

Highly Sensitive

Rashes and allergies, due to an innocuous herb,  

I am not as rock solid as others - you can easily perturb. 

Easily startled by sounds, that to others are imperceptible,

Bruised by a pea deep below, to the prince makes me acceptable.

 

Gloom and doom, because of an innocuous weather,

If its too cold or hot, I turn to stone from feather.  

I count the many shades, of blues and blacks around, 

Can feel the weight of being different, even before I am crowned. 

 

Hurt and pained, because of an innocuous comment,

I can discern the scorn, that is only tangentially meant.   

I get triggered in a hundred ways, or go in a shell like a touch-me-not,

My empathy can heal the kings, like the Grail that is highly sought

My sensitivity is not my Achilles heel, its the unique vantage I have got,

It lets me absorb and process deeply, and rise above the human lot.

Niksen

The day gets washed, like a torrent of rain, 

Incessant striving, that goes down the drain.

When night starts to fall, there is some relief, 

I center like a dew- no matter how brief.

 

Just lying there passively, no fury, no steam, 

No plans to drown the city, or join hands with the stream. 

Taking my sweet time, to form and disappear,   

Being present in the moment, content in the now-and-here.  

That moment of stillness, looks idle and waste, 

As the morning dawns, gets trampled in haste.

A new day demands, we pick our parts again,

And face the world anew, come storm or rain.

There's an art to doing nothing, it needn't create art, 

You don't need a new poem daily- to heal your heart.

Carbon Copy

Don't expect your child, to become your carbon copy,

He may dance to a different beat, be it work or hobby.

You may be a studious nerd, he an athletic hunk, 

You may prefer country music, to his rock and punk.

Don't let the weight of expectations, chip away at his life,

To hope, that he follows in your footprints, is just not right.

Let him explore his passions, let him repeat mistakes, 

Let him give exams, that are prestigious and high stakes.

His constitution is different, you have to give him space,

Let him decide for himself, how he wants to win this race.

Let him stumble and fall, as long as his intentions are right, 

He'll rise up again and again, and will put up a good fight.

 

I'm glad you put some pressure, to ensure a carbon copy, 

In matters of values and morals, one cant afford to be sloppy. 

An Obituary

If a tree was cut in the society, and nobody complained,

Did it really happen, were the residents truly pained?

A permission had been obtained, so they were legally safe, 

- That it was only for trimming, made some of us bicker and chafe. 

 

'Earth's day's memory, is hardly forgotten,

Trees take years to grow- to kill them is rotten!'

Others countered, 'don't you know the simple, tree bonsai concept',

As to why - 'the branches fall in our parking, via them in balconies rodents crept'

It was also brought to our painful attention, that the very flats we live,

Were built after cutting down tress, so why do the builders we forgive.

Heated exchanges happened, in the Society WhatsApp group,

Some of us were labelled armchair activists, in one fell swoop.

To the on-ground people, who 'executed' in the sweltering heat,

Let me abstract, my thoughts - on a paper- while they appreciate the concrete.