THAT LITTLE CUTE THING

This is the first poem that i wrote ... another one of those Out Of Blue Inspiration moments for me

Quite childish but quite true ... it goes like this:


When you are confused
Literally confused

What to do what not to do
Either to do or not to do

Nothing's in mind
No time is due
Difficulties accumulating
Problems still not flew

When you think that there's nothing for your aid
And when troubles are shooting pain in your head

then there's one thing that can get you through
vanish all the barriers that have stood against you

this little thing can bundle up all your hardship's pile
and this all will happen only when you smile :-D

AN ODE TO A BIRD

Sometimes life gives you a second chance, sometimes it doesn’t … or does it.

Recently a bird built a nest in my house, and as my exams were on, i needed somebody busier than me to inspire me to go through the arduous task of cramming the unnecessary stuff ( shrugs to Indian education system). For this favour (of inspiration) i promised the bird that i would sing "There she goes again" on her chick's maiden flight. But instead i found myself writing this poem:

Just in a flash it goes
And all you are left is remorse

And then I came to know what failure meant to life
What sorrow came forth, brought tears to my eyes
Three little unfeathered chicks, lying on burning ground
Unmoved and lifeless ants crawling all around

Above on a branch which used to be their fort,
Sat their nurturing parents, just hoping against hope.
Day-in and day-out incubating the eggs
And then flying around catching bugs to make them grow fast

They themselves didn’t eat just one peck here or two
The rest all came and went from one beak to the next.
Yes they were good parents, their chicks were growing fast
Yeah I can tell that coz I’ve seen others grow in past

All that can be blamed was to the nest they made
But if you see the real reason, this blame seems to fade
They were those unseasonal winds, those unseasonal dust storms,
That left the poor nest uprooted from tree’s hold.
But don’t blame the season, no please no not yet
The grief was brought by human’s who think the season is their pet.

You may pass it for… “Huh, just a bird”
You may say… “Hey man! That’s life”
Or to abate my sorrow you may gift me some advice
But if you stare in their eyes, pleading to see them move
You would know then, my brother
The sorrow that God couldn’t remove.

I don’t know what to do
Mine and theirs feelings are the same
And then blaming someone else rather
I will take the blame.

So dear white tip, I’m sorry I caused you pain
But I promise I’ll be there next time to see you breed again.