mind marooned
in
complex convolution
of
singular anonymity
morphs morbid
into
psychic silhouette
deprived despised
of
enlightened elements
of
acquired attributes
abruptly waned
reserved recess
conceals conundrum
of
sub-conscious search
completely clueless
for
exploration entreaty
as
persuasive ploy
of
outside world
can’t contrive
forsaken mind
pining prisoner
of
own making
captive cocoon
in
introvert isolation
innate vision
scans sightless
faces fading
in
fathomless oblivion
morphed mind
accepts acquiescent
archenemy Nemesis
makes a menagerie
of
moving mirage
mystique guide
to
illusion oasis
reflecting radiant
from
cobalt cauldron
confined contentment
of
identity reverence
self-veneration
pretentious perspicacity
of
fake facsimile
invents Narcissus
as
secret switching
over to obsession
as
senseless specter
languishing listless
beneath
opaque stratum
of
arctic acuity
as
petrified essence
in
darkness frozen
A spark ignited when our paths first crossed,
Your knowledge kindled, my ignorance tossed.
From a timid flicker to a steady glow,
Our bond, like embers, began to grow.
Your wisdom blazed, a guiding light so bright,
Illuminating truths are once hidden from sight.
In learning's heart, our spirits intertwined,
A sacred fire of mentor and mind.
But time, relentless, feeds on mortal flame,
And even the wisest cannot remain.
Your light now fades, yet lingers in the air,
A warmth remembered, beyond compare.
The pyre of knowledge you so proudly built,
Now, it smoulders low, leaving me with guilt.
For lessons missed and questions left unasked,
As twilight falls on your final task.
In ashen whispers, your teachings persist,
Through smoky memories, too precious to resist.
Though you are gone, your spark lives on in me,
A flame of wisdom, burning ceaselessly.
Your absence chills, yet warms me all the same,
For in my heart, you're an eternal flame.
I tend this ember, with reverence and care,
Honouring the light we used to share
.
The likes uv many have
entered
welcome
well c'mon
let's unravel he
let's not
let's eavesdrop
'twuz the fine late spring
mid day 'twuz it
yesss 'twuz
Thar her'z stood
'pon rusty angle iron steps
In'flight
The second story'd ware house
Whilst hern journey's
Up
Her dome swiftly
((snaps))
Over mine own
Mine dome
Her eyne shifted
Right
Whilst hern stared into
The mulberry trees
i mine self in bramble
Thorn after thorn
Bore each prick
Enjoying
hern bare
Ooops
I mean rare
"'twuz "bare"
would i've waisted the
tap"
*he would{haz}')
Mind marooned
in complex convolution,
obscurity singular
in each living entity.
The psyche silhouettes
unique elements,
to alien attributes
they won’t adhere.
The reserved recess
hides the riddles,
sub-conscious search
completely clueless.
Probing entreaty,
the preserve persuasive
of outside world,
can’t contrive
the forsaken mind.
A pining prisoner
of own making,
a crumpled cocoon in
introvert isolation,
I see subsided
all the faces fading
faceless in oblivion,
me wedged secluded
in egoistic web
of self-adoration.
My morphed mind
turns Nemesis,
makes a mirror
of mirage for me.
Gazing gripped,
lurching to the oasis,
it’s only me
I always see,
reflected radiant
from cobalt cauldron
of the luring lake,
confined content.
In self-veneration,
a pretentious perspicacity
of fake facsimile,
I notice Narcissus
in me lonely lurk.
A secret switching
over to obsession,
specter senseless
lies latent,
languishes listless
beneath brazen layers
of arctic acuity
in the dark,
frozen…
PLAYING THE GAME Of POKER
At the table,
the dealer begins the game,
passing out set number of cards,
players ready to exhibit mental acuity.
A full house of masterminds,
getting familiar with the cards,
playing different variations of the game.
everyone with a target.
We fold, check, call or raise,
strategizing on how to topple the other,
straight, stud, draw or community,
mostly, same rule applies.
The game of poker,
quite similar to life.
simple,yet complex!
requires a lot of maths and psychology.
It's a bet, full of trials and errors.
Some rely on their tenacity and courage,
their adroitness and tactics,
for maximum result.
Some compromise it all,
yet, no aroma of fresh fruits.
some run out of chips, even before they get a chance to play.
We all are players,
playing the mean game of poker,
round the clock,
with dexterous manoeuvre.
The difference is,
some have mastered the soft skills,
and have become connoisseurs of the game.
while some are still baking in the oven.
In this game of life,
sometimes we win,
sometimes we lose.
we all bet,we all play.
mr. President
say these words
after me:
maintain distance
wear mask
wash hands
now, please repeat aloud in that order
or any order
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