Monthly Archives: December 2010

Winding Up

It is an end of a  decade,

Which let down  the economy defaced,

As thousands of scams surfaced,

Indicating a recession unfazed.



It saw a collapse of banks,

All in rows and ranks,

It underwent a  series of cranks,

As  schemes  created pranks.



The commodities played truant,

Stocks moved across errant,

Currency fluctuation was apparent,

Striking a deadly blow on the economy rampant.



It  also bore a crisis of unemployment,

Experiencing a lot of jobless deportment,

Rendering a gross disenchantment,

As there existed a pack of resentment.



It is  a ten years of sadness,

Which calls for an austere  artfulness

Resuming a consistent gracefulness,

In operating the finances  with appropriateness.



With this  deliberate determination,

The new decade  opens  in celebrations,

Reclining on considerations and contributions,

Towards the progress of economic  promotions. 









The Refuge

It is a big , very big issue,

 It calls for a  rigid review,

 While it lingers on a specific preview,

Cascading over a sordid tissue.


The hiding solace is confound

The escaping route is  unbound

The meandering route is a rebound,

The round about overture is a resound.



The burning torture is scathing,

The shivering fear is eating,

The noisy dispute is oppressing,

As there is a nervous wrangling.



A sudden  upheaval blurts over,

There arises an astonishing crossover,

Seeking a thunderous shake over,

Forcing a compelling refuge.


An Evidence And A Witness

There is a mess all over,

There arises a turmoil  always,

There emanates a dark smoke everywhere,

There runs a murky water moreover.




The cause for the turbulence is unknown,

The reason for the disturbance is  inborn,

The limitation for the riot is unborn,

The gravity of the sequence is renown.



There is a call for an evidence,

Which strikes a dissimilar cadence,

Promoting a diligent negligence,

Fostering a severe arrogance.




The arguments lead nowhere,

As the witness proceeds with a tear,

 Since truth and transparency are rare,

In the regions of destructive care.



Evidences give a direction to the case,

Which lead to a concluding base,

But most of them have a double face,

Misleading a justification to a trace.



Witness give an authenticity ,

They are supposed to  affirm a plausibility,

But  unfortunately  decry a rigidity,

Smashing the verdict’s rationality.




How to address you?

How to call you?

I consider  and I deliberate.



Nay ,call me  as John,

Nothing beyond that .

As  I am born,

Almost like that.




I still hold ,

I recall your post

As I fold,

In an unnerving toast.



Nay ,I am simply John,

No matter what I am,

I need no darn,

As Ilike to be as I am.



I hesitate with  fear,

As your status is high,

I  get back in the rear,

Letting out a sigh.



Nay , I am none but John,

Nevertheless  of my stand,

I wish to be  withdrawn,

Away from the band.




John , I cry out,

You turn with a smile,

My  sudden let out ,

Has gone ahead of a mile.




It is the real quality in you,

That propels an admiration,

It is best  merit  in you,

That gives you a designation


The Extremes

There is a range in behaviour,

Too hot and too cold,

Which holds good to temperature,

Too high and too low.



Hot denotes anger,

A fuming and frothing fury,

Cold represents an indifference,

A disrespect and contempt.





High calls or a burning scorch,

Rendering an incessant heat,

Low shows a freezing level,

Emitting a biting cold.



The extremes propose a variation,

Both in attitude and climate,

Creating an unpleasant trait,

That resolves into a difficult plight.



French Leave.

Like to fly away unnoticed,

Like to sink deep unobserved,

Like to pass  away unaware,

Like to slip off unseen.



The likes might  sound  as oddities,

Yet they are my wishing realities,

Releasing an  escapism  amidst trivialities,

 By embracing wholeheartedly the infinities.



It is a  French Leave,

It  is  above the sleeve,

Nothing much to grieve

Very  much dissimilar to a believe.



The Shadow

I fear none but a shadow,

It may sound a bit shallow,

But it is a true halo.


The small image that follows,

Equips a trendy follow,

Creating  a  remnant shallow.



The moving shadow runs over,

Implying a frenzied hover,

Impressing a terrible devour.



The mystical virtuoso calls for,

A sullied  crossover,

Defying a fear whatsoever.




 There erupts a stifling  languish ,

Casting a scare feverish,

Resulting in a grade impoverish.




There emanates a resurgence,

Calling for an emergence,

Specifically arriving on a turbulence.




The shadow slowly fades ,

Clearing the misty shades,

As they rest on cluster of  blades.