Missing

I don't miss you nowadays, your memories a distant blur,

I'm a pro at expressing myself, not a bumbling amateur.

Earlier I used to pine for you, you were my eternal muse,

Now I just pick my pen and write, I've no time for that ruse.

 

A lot of water has flown since- I now write a sonnet a day,

On subjects ordinary and varied, some sombre, some gay.

Rarely do I talk about my past, my sonnets aren't about love,

Rarer in them to find a mention, of you or the God above. 

Like God you are a background hum, omnipresent and ignored, 

My poems are about myself- a show of creativity when I get bored.

I don't need you for my passion, I don't need you for my pain,

I don't need you as a reminder, of that friendship gone down the drain. 

Just when I think I'm over you, that I'm finally free at last,

A memory surfaces on Facebook, of a poem from my past. 

A Market For Poems?

Everyone who is sensitive, or appreciates beauty,

Is a potential connoisseur, is bound by duty,

To read, reflect, and mull, let a chord strike his very being,   

That the whole world can be a market- believing is seeing. 

Everyone who can read well, is proficient in English, 

Is part of my target segment, the swamp in which I fish.

Sea may not be my oyster, I can always cry a river,

And pin by slings and arrows, shooting from my quiver.

 

Everyone who likes or loves me, our paths crossed perchance,

Whose mind share I have earned, who's ready to finance.

Buys my books or coffee, is a patron in true sense,

Likes my poems on Facebook, be they obtuse or dense. 

 

What should I optimize for, to grow TAM, SAM or SOM?

I write for you my dear, not to please harry, dick or tom. 

My Reading Evolution

I used to read often, for pleasure and fun, 

Famous Five or Five Find Outers, they all seemed one.

The genre was fixed, pulp fiction about Vijay and Vikas,

I used to hide and read- now I'm at peace with that past.

 

I used to read often, fascinated by metaphors and puns,

On the lookout for literary devices, like Chekov's guns. 

To read in Homer more than, what was originally meant to be,  

The short stories and classics, were a license to philosophize for me. 

I used to read often, to gain psychological expertise,

Be it textbooks or popular ones, I used to finish in a breeze.

The mysteries of the human mind, that surface from deep freeze,

Are psychoanalytical or evolutionary? Did I miss the forest for the trees?

I now read daily, to apply, transform and improve,  

By taking the joy out of reading, what exactly did I prove?

To Call or Not to Call?

Friendships fade, for a million reasons,

Some sour over time, due to changing seasons,

Some abruptly end, with no one knowing why,

Some wither and dissipate, with nothing left to try.  

We never fought, I'm not indebted to you,

Now distant and apart, we were of a kind, we two. 

The motivation lurks, to pick up the phone and call,

I keep rehearsing in my mind, but whole day I stall. 

It's neither your birthday, nor is it the Diwali fest,

If you don't pick up my call, can I brush it in jest?

Or will the awkwardness of having called, and the imaginary humiliation,

Stop this Sudama from calling his friend, who is now at a higher station. 

 

Practice makes it perfect,  today I've called a dozen friends,

That I'll finally speak to you, I'm charged and pumped no ends.

 

Friends till the Ends

Ba Ba black sheep, have you any friends?

Yes sir, yes sir, they're for real, not pretends. 

One to cheer me up, the other to calm me down,

The third to make me laugh, by acting like a clown.

 

Ba Ba black sheep, how deep are your friends?

Yes sir, yes sir, their friendship never ends.

One goes the extra mile, the other calls in morning at 3,

The third can lay his life for me, and I'll do the same, you see.

 

Ba Ba black sheep, have you many friends?

Yes sir, yes sir, they come in hordes and tens.

One from the workplace, the other from where I live,

The third from the college days, that I reminisce and relive.  

Ba Ba black sheep, have you a special friend?

Yes sir, yes sir, that why this sonnet I penned!

 

Stuck

Onward and upwards, climb I must,

Get promoted each year, be it boom or bust.

My self-worth attached, to the title I hold,

Only on reaching the top, will my story be told. 

I've reached a decent stature, my station at work,

Can I move up even further, self doubts lurk.

My level of (in)competence, defines my role, 

Can't move up or down, round peg in square hole. 

If I was brilliant in my role, they would move me up,

If I was not performing well, they'd prepare a backup. 

Mediocrity rewarded, I'm stagnant and secure,

No company will poach me, I'll be loyal, for sure.

You can't promote me up, you can't demote me down,

I keep swimming in circles - pls let me float or drown. 

Social Media Policing

Every word you write, every move you make,

I'll be watching you -  whether sleeping or awake.

For by reading what you write, I can infer what you feel,

And figuring your mood is easy- through your insta reels. 

 

You may find it creepy, when your tweets I follow,

But I gain a lot of insights, when 140 chars I swallow. 

I can find there subtle nuances, that I can't see on your face.

My software keeps analyzing, you are moody on which days.   

I've trained my program, to look for signs of distress,

Detect anxiety and depression, suicidal thoughts or stress. 

What you share so casually, becomes a fodder for me, 

When you know I'm prying, would you still share free? 

SM posts or not, I'll always look out for you,

AI engine or not, I track when you are happy too.

The Separation

Someone has gone afar, why do you cry,

'He's happy', 'you are glad', why do you lie?

If he hadn't moved first, you would've said bye, 

Now that he's gone, why do you miss him, and sigh. 

 

Its OK to feel sad, when a part of you departs,  

He has chosen something else, be it science or arts.

What started as an interest, you fanned by giving hearts,

Now it consumes him full-time, not in fits and starts.

Distance you could make peace with, you become close when not near,

How can you bear the thought, that he doesn't have time for you, my dear. 

The path on which you nudged him, will take him far, is what you fear,

He'll become a blur in space-time, as he gets lost in studies and a career. 

Are the golden days over, is it downhill from now?

Separation completed, you're on your own, and how!

Friends Forever?

Friendship day is approaching, let me reach out to that friend, 

That bond got broken over time, it will take time to mend.

When I think of approaching him, he seems a stranger to me,

Although I know as soon as we talk, like old times it would be.

I don't know how his day looks like, just that he's now a big shot,

I'm busy with whats going on in my life, its been ages since we caught. 

How would I feel if he called me today- Happy and elated, of course!

Why do I think my calling out of blue, he'll frown upon and not endorse. 

Then there's this bigger issue, who should call first,

Should only one keep calling, leading to that outburst.

They say it takes two to tango, I'm sure he too loves to dance,

But whether we'll dance again, we are both leaving to chance. 

We may be strangers now, but we were once, friends in the past,

If we can befriend strangers, we can surely become, friends again fast.