Work Leisure Integration

A poem a day, I choose to write,

As night befalls, ideas take flight.

The inner drive, bleeds through next day,

I strive hard at work, and longer stay.

The hour spent juggling, words and rhyme,

As I hone my craft, lose sense of time.

The same absorption, I take to work,

The mastery mindset, becomes a quirk.

The finished product, bridges hearts, hooks you,

Makes me bond with audience, that's sensitive too.

The service orientation, and the community high,

Reaps dividends in workplace, makes me the cool guy.

It's more than a hobby, it's a serious pursuit,

That it makes my days bearable, is a point moot. 

Man and Superman

Bent and broken, into a better shape,

Adversity moulds me, into a man with a cape.

I don't become bitter, use it as a springboard, 

To release the strength, that was inside stored.

I still dread and wonder, am I worthy of my pain?

Sacrifices notwithstanding, did morals go down the drain?

To survive and emerge stronger, is not always good,

I suffered, but in vain, for myself did I stood?

Would it have been better, for me to destruction choose?

Than to survive, or even flourish, and myself bit by bit lose?

What use is victory, when I am no longer myself?

In the quest for future, should I not on the past dwell?

When I started my dream, was to be a good human being,

To remain human despite setbacks, is incredibly freeing.

Setting the Mood

Tune the strings first, then set the bass right,

Fiddle with the gain, till the sound's to your delight.

Practice solo daily, before that electrifying performance,

To set the stage on fire, first go through the hell of endurance.

   

Sit on a bridge for hours, catch waterlilies in varied light,

Mix the various pigments, till you get the hue that's bright.

Sketches and notes yield, to the masterpiece in oil,

You have to paint a million perspectives, can't shy from toil. 

Detach from what the day served, write to a prompt few lines,

Let the dust settle down a bit, to uncover what the heart pines.

Scribble in your diary or online, variations on a theme,

Discard what doesn't nourish you, make it last more than a meme.

If you wish I'll pen another poem, at your whim and my will,

But first I need the day to set mood, so that with 14 lines I can kill.

Being Gritty

The goal is clear, mocks me from afar,

Guides my actions, like the North Star.

Can I exchange the dream? Have I traded too low?

Should I burst like a nova, or keep burning slow? 

The passion is apparent, makes me come alive,

Every step of the journey, I give myself a high five. 

Energy invested here, could it other parts drain?

Should I hoard the thunder, or let it pour and rain?

The persistence is astonishing, I've walked a mile long,

To abandon at this juncture, on many levels, is so wrong. 

Could I dig a different place, where my efforts will bear fruit?

Is calling out the sunk cost fallacy, to myself, a bit rude?

If you insist, I'll reassess, but I know I'll stay the course,

This work is so important, that for all lives I'll endorse.

Heart Brain Tussle

Seen through my wounds, the world appears red,

I want it to fade and disappear, as I toss in my bed.

The morning sunrise, doesn't feed and sustain,

My heart has stopped beating, it's all the way brain. 

The brain calculates, who to trust and how much,

I'm always on the lookout, for new wounds as such.

Once a victim, now a survivor, the label doesn't help,

At the slightest slight, I get triggered, and go for the scalp.

My past defines me; I can't afford another defeat,

I can't let you cheat me; I'll never get back on my feet.

You may be an angel in disguise, I'll give it a pass,

When I'm bleeding profusely, cauterization seems a farce.

You want to hurt me further, when I'm already hurt and clearly in pain,

My heart is not convinced, though my brain realizes it's for long-term gain.

The Golden Pursuit

I need to rake in the moolah, life is short, 

It'll ensure stability- you gently exhort.

Wealth once accumulated, takes time to diminish,

The race is about survival, from start to finish.

I need to rake in the moolah, life is uncertain,

Without money to flaunt, it's a tad less fun.

I need to up the Joneses, have discretionary spends,

With me on the top, alone, is how I know it ends. 

I need to rake in the moolah, life is unlived,

It's an empty canvas, that with money can be filled.

Untethered from work, I can write sonnets at will,

Do charity, create impact, with a note two birds kill.

Money is not the enemy, it is the reasons we covet it for,

Pursue money all you want, don't let it tarnish your golden core.

Different Lives, Different Masters

To sit on a pile of cash, or bond with someone dear, 

Some aspire to be on the top 10 lists, others leaving no legacy fear.

Some are drawn to how they can drive others, others driven by personal growth,

Some want to attract and be beautiful, though they may get burned in the process like a moth.   

Fame, power, wealth are the anchors, that keep many a people afloat,

That love and service could be a lifeline, they don't know- they never sailed that boat.

All their life spent to earn enough, so they can pay a higher bill,

It costs them health and peace of mind, and increases their chance of being ill. 

You become what you aspire for, you become what you behave,

When goals are not steeped in your soul, even after achieving you crave.

When you are driven by care for others, and want to serve and deepen ties,

You are happy and more satisfied, you can overthrow materialist lies.

On the death bed you never regret, how you could have earned even more,

Only that you could have loved and lived well, and left this world better than before.