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Age Study subscriptions Theory thoughts True

On the Run


The days of youth are fun,

As we are always in the run,

Once we are up on a tree,

We sing aloud in a total free.

 

The days of adulthood are little less fun,

As  we have to move about in a slower run,

Once we are in the mid tree,

 We deliberate on things not totally free.

 

The days of mid age are least fun,

As we have to check out our run,

Once  we are on the lower tree,

 We  work on  the responsibilities almost unfree.

 

The days of old age are never a fun,

As we  have to stop our run,

Once we are beneath the tree,

 We count the days when we would be set free.

 

 

 

 

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subscriptions thoughts turmoil

Traumatic it is.


A predicament keeps on hustling me  for years together,

Certain times it is as oppressive as myocardial infraction rather,

Other times it is felt, but less bothersome altogether,

Will I be able to fulfill it in my active years my thoughts gather?


Am I obsessed with that particular responsibility for  long?

My wandering mind saunters  aimlessly  mostly along,

The path and the avenue I tread , I feel are wrong.

Let me tell you ,my heart  sings  a melancholic song.


Never had I been cowed down by such retributions,

Ordeals and hardships are part of my life attributions,

I pushed them out with  deft designs and  foolproof execution,

Let me tell  you, my heart sinks into a dissolution.


Hundreds of   plausible insights did cross in,

None of them coordinated with my standard to a thin,

I tried hard to go along with the tide adopting a daring spin,

Let me tell you, I was drowned midway  in the chaotic din.


My plight has to be camouflaged   with a  tidy brilliance,

The despair in me tries to express itself in my countenance,

I struggle hard to suppress the emotions to befitting  credence,

Let me tell you, my  pretensions  lend me a required balance.

With a beaming smile I go about my  way of life,

With a full heart  I carry on  with my strife,

With a hope  that I would  overcome this  grief, 

Let me tell you, how traumatic it is , costing your half-life.




Categories
subscriptions thoughts turmoil

Demand And Delay


As the demand is  high

Delay is  more.

So goes the cry,

Affecting the core.

 

 


Craving calls for instantaneous,

It compels an immediate,

But there is an erroneous,

Unexpected tardiness right.

 

 


Desire commands an impromptu,

It wishes to achieve fast,

But there is a de-facto,

Lethargic reluctance  cast.

 

 


We  should   strive to set  in motion,

A powerful momentum,

Of  speed and notion,

To   indulge in a  strong dictum.

 

 


To appease a  lawful demand,

There should be a  quorum,

Which should reprimand,

The  trespassing forum.

 

 


To  obtain the birthright,

There should be no  hurdle

As that of the executor’s  right,

Supported by the solicitor’s   doodle.

 

 


There seems to be a probable

Cohesion of executor and lawyer,

To grab the  beneficiary’s reliable,

Share and  properties  entire.

 

 


Law and governance should  admonish,

The  corrupt lawyer and wicked executor

By focussing on image tarnish,

And locking them before the prosecutor.

 



This may sound little away,

As it looks more personal,

But this happens in a sway,

Blinking on us like  irrational.

 

 


There  is no logical reason,

But wicked manoeuvering,

Loaded with cynicism and treason,

Creating a loathsome  bickering.











Categories
reverberation subscriptions thoughts

A Rivulet Sings.


A tiny stream of water,

Gushes down the path,

Holding across all,

Tortoise, frogs, and fish,

Moving along in,

A happy band,

Making noise all over,

Chattering and croaking,

Gleefully and merrily

While the tiny rivulet

Sings  to itself,

A melodious song,

That of life and blood,

That of vibrancy and velocity,

That of cheer and humour,

That of fineness and lustre,

Miniscule magnifies the trifle,

Trivia enlarges the small,

Small enhances the  beauty,

Beauty  merges with divinity,

Thus forming a plane

Of essence and vitality,

Renewing faith and trust,

Invoking prayer and benediction,.

Which ensue a grand denouement.


Categories
subscriptions thoughts turmoil

Solicitor Swears By Satan


I know a senior solicitor ,

Who is truly a navigator,

From the promising   oath,

Taken on the Bible.



He argues not in court,

But in hs official fort,

Reads the minds of clients,

Gleefully catches the ignorant

 

 

Listing out his daily calls,

He works out a clause,

As whom should he

Fool  the day.

 

 

He  summons the rich naive,

Speaks volumes of praise,

Flattering him to levels,

With  high praise and  distractions.

 

 

 

The clumsy  conceited   man,

Believes his words to the full,

Acts by wielding his strength,

Of unfair money and exclusive rights.

 

 

 

The solicitor designs schemes,

To deprive the  birthrights,

Of a sibling who honours ,

Truth and justice.

 

 

The two hand and glove,

Think that they are above,

Hoarding  other’s funds,

By deceit and manoeuver.

 

 

 

The solicitor and the ignorant,

Coaxed by false security,

Make a grand depository,

Of funds  not their own.

 

 

 

A professional cheat be he,

Swearing on the holy scriptures,

Wrongs each and every one,

Unaware of the final trial.

 

 

 

The last call is very near,

As the solicitor is in  his twilight ,

Wish he and his  pet  be thrashed by,

The  eventuality of destiny.