Poetry thoughts

Another Day More.

Another day more

with the sun rise

and a sun set

work and sleep

intervened by happenings

could make you happy

would make yo unhappy

the day that was

the day that is

the day that would  be

look more or less alike

but for the age

of you and of me

increases with a mark

a sag and a wrinkle

greying and a wobbling

as you walk towards the destination.




duck insight luck metaphor nuances Poetry

Strangle ————-A Battle

illustration-of-a-man-strangling-other-713846A tight fist  holds the neck

the throat gets stuck

unable to move could only buck

strangle comes into force

has not been in the course

never did occur in the flow

could anyone expect it with a know

impossible quoth the mind

being a differential kind

could not lead the blind

well, strangling unmindfully

the fist fastens to it relentlessly

the throat is chocked to the core

the voice dies down with a roar

could that be the endI tremble

no, that is only the preamble

the metaphor strikes apart

the bad that shows up  be the belief

with a gaudy sense  of relief

uncermoniously is bellowed down

trapped and massacres by the drone

a literal strangle looks mild

the deep insight into the nuances  is filed

strangle is a battle fought with no luck

a submission more or less like a tame duck.

extract Poetry proceeds

Blessed They Are

They fleece

irrespective in tease

high they talk

out of the way they walk

extract much

great as such

lash with words

tie with threads

grisly figures

terribly  trigger

a fear and a throb

clear in a flop

strangle down the throat

keep away from the float

a threat  similar to disaster

casting a depression

remitting a digression

that way they extract

the proceeds mount up

grace be to them

blessed they are

may their tribe increase.

go know. Poetry tread

The Activities Slow Down.

Up and down

I go

not with a frown

I bow

forward and backward

I shuttle

never in a wayward

I buckle

before  in great speed

I went.

of late in  a slow walk

I tread.

yet  in  the pace

I move

a  change is there

I know

will go on till the end

I am sure.aging wit ease

grows increases. Poetry

Age Graph

Day after tomorrow

and  the day before yesterday

the  terms look smart fba2228e-1ba1-47a7-b6a2-8e9399ad21c5

being specific of the days.

Today and yesterday

with the call on tomorrow

gain speed and pass away

carry well with an allow.

So years roll by

with months in the fold

with them go the days

with a speed untold.

Been born a few months back

could become a year old

it is already in a pack

another six months  in  hold.

Well, that is how we  decipher

with the time waiting for none

we move about in eager

soon our work is done.

Young once we were

adults in the middle

now old as we are

so goes the riddle.

It is the age that increases

grows rapidly in  no time

others increase and decrease

not the age at any time.


I Have Not Earned.

I have not earned a penny
nor won a single penny
been with the family for years
children and husband near
never had a thought to slog
sat at home like a log.

It is a thought out of time
asI hear my death bell chime
I pine for not having earned
know it is too late to yearn
still my mind allows me not at peace
I look at my worn out hands in a tease.

Could I make up for the lost?
My twilight years runs fast
before I close my eyes
I want to earn a few paise
would I be able to do?
it is something out of the twilight years.

acceptance. degeneration disorientation Poetry

That be With The Age.

That be the age they say

the degeneration in a way

the physical deterioration

the mental disorientation

run simultaneously with a reference

almost  instantly without deference

before one could realize

the set back  has grown in size

the joints suffer in excess

the memory slips in a stress

there you are  in a hold

gracefully go with a fold

joyfully pass into the cloud

with saying nothing  aloud.



The Resemblance

The resemblance strikes much
a father and son as such
look similar in features and physic
mannerism takes the lead in a trick
the significance is so obstinate
takes one by a seize in an instant
realization dawns a little late
the age factor comes in straight
the difference shows father and sonup quick
that be a study in terms alike.


The Haemorrhage.

The allegations at an age
the criticism at a period
the attack at a time
when the spirits are down
cause a havoc unbearable.

Never have seen smooth sail
Never have experienced a flow
Never have heard a kind word
all through the days hay and old.

The scathe and scorn in volumes
scrap the heart of its tenderness
the sore is so ulcerative
it bleeds internally copiously.

The haemorrhage accounts for a stumble
a withdrawal from the kith and kin
might be also from the child too
as it clogs and tarnishes the feel.

The cast away from society at large
the pull away from the near and dear
makes one find solace in the lifeless
that of read and write in design.lonely_leaf_left_alone

The words pop out with animation
laugh and talk with cheer
console with a smothering rhythm
care with cordial solicitation.


As The Age Goes.

I am going to be ten
jolly well cries my grand-daughter.

I am going to be twenty
cries  my nephew with joy.

I  would be thirty plus
beams my son with pride.

I am turning forty
tells my brother softly.

I am on my way to fifty
speaks my cousin meekly.

Well, I would be sixty soon
say I demurely .

Well as the age goes
the people grow
so do their voice  show
from high to low
with a mellow
that be the go
as years flow
taking us nearer to the grave
turning stoic and brave.