Poetry thoughts

Being A Solitary Reaper.

The day flees fast

tied up in calls

one after another

in cohesive turns

managed the daily chores

with those in force

forget what I talk

to the one and to the other

hope I did not mix up

the way around in toll

completed the dialogues

a little ahead of the schedule

back to my normal routine

a revert to the original

being myself to myself

a “solitary reaper”  of Wordsworth

once and for all in worth.





A Breakthrough

The society calls  come in great numbers

making one to wake up from the deep slumber

with a quick shower and a dress up go rushing

making an entry and an exit with a quickening

this being the procedure of life  all thorough

directing an incessant  disturbance without a clue Bird+speakerPhone

with the routine getting affected all along

causing an upset  when the age  advances in long.










A Letter To The Tenant.

pr123_240 Calls are answered without any attribution
Mails mostly go without any proposition.
I am sending e mails as an imposition
But, to my dismay, I find no solution.

As there is no solution let us part.
Not thinking of anything extraneous to act
To make a smooth transition is the tact.
Let us do it immediately as there exists no pact