Nothing Personal

Trying not to be personal

wish to avoid the “I”

sad to say it creeps in  so easily

and I forget my vow in the nominal.


The “I ” intrudes as often possible

I plunge into it in a quick

it could lead to  a stereotyped pick

as I  elaborate  not in syllables.


Try to keep away from the “I” as much

the bore I am all through  in the days

plaintive and withdrawn in all ways

what could I write about as such?


My contemplation leads me nowhere

when I write  am not myself in the real

I not remember what I write in the deals

look puzzled and confused without a share.













You And I

The year that was

gives rise to a cause

being one of disasters many

man made mostly

blame we the nature

as if it has lost its composure.


Greed of man as talked by all

has brought this fall

the incidents of  the  Chennai floods

drains one’s blood

the horror still looms in the mind

a tragedy in a kind.


Water bodies turn overnight

become plots and site

portioned and sold as fast

buildings come up faster

not single story house as in the past

multi stories in a concrete cast.


Men swarm like bees  in a move

buy the apartments in  fool proof

settle with such a haste  and hurry

as if there exists nothing else to worry

live in a pigeon’s hole as most are

happily in lands very much far.


The land being an erstwhile estuary

has a soil clayey and  marshy

the buildings seem to crack quick

a gap which could allow a stick

the soil pulls the skyscrapers down

the dwellers start to mumble and frown.


Then comes the unprecedented rains

sweeping through the men against their brains

it pours day and night with such velocity

the administration  opens the catchments noiselessly

the water gushes out in such speed

devouring the land and man with such greed.


A hue and a cry hit the sky

the rain non stop pours without any deny

the water starved Chennai is inundated

its people cry for mercy  being devastated

the governance sits back in the seat

it is the kindred spirit that jumps out upbeat.


Who is to be blamed ? you and I ask

it is you and I beyond all task

you and I voted in the elections

you and I opted to buy  for reasons

you and I let go the rules ignored

you and I are squarely to be blamed.


Leave the year 2015  to the annals of history

Let the year 2016 be an year that could make history

Let us all take a vow to honour Nature

Let us  all respect her stature

With these resolutions let us greet 2016

the year inherent with the qualities of sweet 16.


I’m sharing my #TalesOf2015 with BlogAdda

















cranky crazy eccentric finicky fool silly introvert lunatic. Poetry

I Am What I Am

I am what I am.I am so finicky

a touch me not

an introvert in all

resolute and focused

Do I look crazy?

well, that is what I am.

Talk to a few only

could talk no more

settle within my circle

never want to extend

Do I sound silly?

well, that is what I am.

Like not to dine out

the little I eat

has to be from home

confined to the home

Do I seem cranky?

well, that is what I am.

I spend time gazing at the sky

the stars twinkle

the moon shines

the sun scorches

I find an equanimity with them

Do I  resemble a fool?

well, that is what I am.

I read books many

listen to music often

imagine me to be a writer of fame

write, what I know in a stroke

Do I speak like an eccentric?

well, that is what I am.

I am very sensitive

hurt I get in a wink

when  bruised  I sob

withdraw as quick as I can

Do I take the cue of a lunatic?

well, that is what I am.


I And My Eye.

It is the I
that comes to my eye
whenever I g to buy
it is the I
as well as the eye.
whatever I try to tie
it is the I
as well as the eye
whenever I go in a shy
it is the I
as well as the eye.
however I try to utter a lie
it is the I
as well as the eye
the I in me
and the eyes of me
give me out.07f8c5274f5dfe7a770067d51c9ded9f


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.

subscriptions thoughts

Missed Pathos

Do you hear me?

I had a misbite ,

The pain  terrible,

A  spasmodic miss.



Do you  hear me?

I had a misstep,

The  fall  horrible,

An aching miss.




Do you hear me?

I had a misbeat,

The heartache  intolerable,

A sporadic miss.



Do you hear me?

I had a mishap,

The  hurt unimaginable,

An accidental miss.



Do you hear me?

I had  misspelt,

The  throb indefinable,

A  chastening miss.



Do you hear me ?

I had a mislead,

The agony immeasurable,

A distressing miss.



Do you hear me?

I had a misguide,

A torture unpredictable,

A grievous miss.



Do you hear  me?

I had a  mistrial,

A setback improbable,

 A retributive miss.



Do you hear me?

I had a misfortune,

A  sadness undesirable,

A  woeful miss.



Do you hear me?

I am a mistake,

I am a misfit,

I am a mismatch,

An erroneous miss.