An On-Demand Poem

I've all but forgotten, the art and craft,

Some rhymes, some rhythm, just add to cart,

On checkout, don't forget, to add the coupon code,

Enjoy within minutes, a limerick or an ode.

Most days it's the standard, 14-line drills,

I can tweak the format, or make a quick one, no frills.

I'll customise the sonnet, to suit your taste,

Please savour the delicacy, don't gobble in haste.

You demand a sentence-long poem, and I certainly can,

Maybe Haiku is the template, worth your attention span.

I can stretch the sentence long, or make a short,

In the age of reels, I need to adapt, you exhort.

Playing with words but losing its soul,

Hashtag WorldPoetryDay, I have met my goal.

Being a Poppy

Don’t be afraid to be a poppy, in a field full of daffodils,
Be it their scorn or enchantment, it's all grist for the mill.
They laughed at Einstein, they also laughed at Bozo, the clown,
If you don’t blossom or break through the cracks, on you I’ll forever frown.

For when a poppy pushes up, through the dark earth to the spring,
It just knows in its heart that sunshine spring will bring.
It shows courage against odds and deeply values life,
And believes in miracles that are born of strife.

When Lady April brings the daffodils, the springing grasses, and warm April rains,
Does your Poppyness torment you, fill you with doubt and pain?
Would it reassure you if I pointed, I’ve been the odd man out,
Does that message assuage you, so you can stop whining and shout?

Whether to be a poppy or a daffodil, I have not given you the choice,
This whole piece is a dramatic monologue, where, my dear, you don’t have a voice!

PS: This poem was written as a response to this prompt on Scrittura and first published on Medium here.

Fallen

When all around you is winter, it's folly to grow shoots,

Let go of the leaves and flowers, just focus on your roots.

In summer the leaves are assets- they give you bread and wine,

In winter sans the sun's sweet help, losing them would be so fine. 

Oh behold the twist of fate, they are now a liability,

By losing water, to leave you dead, is their new ability.

When you brush aside, let leaves fall, is that being opportunistic?

Are you ashamed, of your giving up, as you're reduced to a naked stick?

I might be dead on the outside, I am growing my roots deep,

I know I'll welcome leaves again, so on their passing I don't weep.

I use this time to build reserves, I trust the wheel will turn,

The fallen leaves become compost, that's the way I churn.

When all around you is winter, surely, the spring is round the block,

For all my bravado and wisdom, the fallen leaves still mock.

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.