Each day I'm embraced by a new challenge,
Uninvited, I'm their host,
Though each day I hope for a change,
I wake up still standing in the post,
As they are hurled at me,
I wage as much as I can see.
I have given up not just once,
All were dark and dreary,
My net wasn’t carrying the desired ounce,
This made me low-spirited and weary,
I was going to throw in the towel,
Dig and cover up with a shovel.
My muse won’t let me be,
It won’t let me do my bidding,
My periscope couldn’t see
further than its wielding,
I still stand despite the uncertainties,
I move on despite the deformities.
April 9, 2022.
Categories:
low spirited, inspiration, muse,
Form: Verse
They say that sound can travel approximately six thousand metres per second
But what is the use when I open up my mouth and let out a long scream of deep anguish and nothing but silence comes out?
It has been silenced by the river of low-spirited tears
My mind on the other is going a million miles an hour while I slowly start to sink to the bottom
My whole body starts to feel cold and lifeless
My heart...numb
My mind...empty
I can vaguely hear His voice pleading not to give up but
I feel that I am done fighting
Done with pleading
Done with praying
Just...done
Categories:
low spirited, deep,
Form: Free verse
His name is evoked with boundless esteem
By the strata of generations down the ages
The prodigious son of our holy motherland
Who embodied valour and chivalry to the hilt.
He could have lead a princely life of comfort
By conceding the honour of his blessed land
But happily chose a life similar to his terrain
Instead of beating the same refrain like peers.
He embodied all that stands for grit and nerve
Inspired the masses by an outstanding example
Sent shivers down the spine of the adversaries
And won admiration even from his sworn foes.
His form awe-inspiring stays etched in minds
Reviving the memories of his sacrifice great
That arouses the most weak and low-spirited
Infuses the spirit with verve and vim; enviable.
Even today he is revered as a symbol of bravery
With very few peers to match his place in history
He strode like a colossus on the sands of time
The Maharana is worthy of salute for all time.
Till his last breath he worshiped his motherland
A crest jewel among all valiant warriors of the land
He the great, his loyal Chetak, the gallant steed
To all such immortals, we all owe our gratitude.
Categories:
low spirited, history, horse, uplifting,
Form: Free verse