Holi Fun

From my 7th-floor balcony, I watch the rowdy crowd,

Close the soundproof windows, to drown music that's loud.

A part of me wants to come down, join in all the fun,

But for the most part, I look down, at the nuisance for one.

Throw colors on passersby, greet strangers with a warm wish,

Observe religious prohibitions, like not eating meat or fish.

Haven't I evolved beyond this? I am no longer a child,

How can I let my hair down, and like others, become wild?

Doorbell rings, I'm surrounded by hooligans,

They drag me down, and make me play with water guns.

I hesitate initially, then let all hell break loose,

Drench the others at will, and paint them as I choose.

In a crowd to lose yourself, is so liberating and free, 

That the festivities are fun and harmless, is the real key.

Product vs Service

Let go of the service mindset, become a cool product,  

Your value should compound over time, and scale you must.

To remain a coach is a folly, when you can write a how-to-coach guide,

To sell, you must be visible, and not beneath your client work hide.

For a coach has limited time slots, while with a guide, you can motivate,

And fill your coffers with money, and have a larger impact, my mate.

That the how-to guide needs a different skill, is besides the point,

You'd better transform and get the Midas touch, don't dare you us disappoint.

You say you have packaged yourself nicely, the trick is how to distribute,

How to capture the heart of young coaches, who will be floored by your repute

To shape them and their clients, you can author books or create a course,

You can go on speaking engagements, and thereby set forth the discourse. 

If money were not a factor, would I make myself a product?

I'll write poems for impact, and for healing relational work conduct.

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.