The blue waves smack the shore
Outlined by the oaken door.
Stand beside the cypress tree
Throw your arms out to the sea
On a mossy cliffside you can spy
The wheeling curlew, hear it cry.
Smell the cedar in the grove
See grass wave where rover's rove.
Hear the sea gull, feel the wild
White sails on silver, be beguiled.
So far from madness of the city
Cell phone rings, no longer free.
You run inside the cottage door
Find your backpack on the floor
Dig the phone out, as it plays
A ringtone singing "yesterday"
Its Chase bank, with a suspect charge
Ten thousand, that's awful large.
Text message comes from your landlord
Rats with fleas came in a horde
Your boss says he's needs you back soon
Work has come like a monsoon.
You leave the cottage bitterly
But you can't eat the scenery:
Can't throw the cell phone in the sea.
At least you have the memory...
As one grows up,
one is becoming an adult.
At least that is what is supposed to happen,
many want to stay as a child.
No responsibilities,
no growing up.
Life can be more effervescent,
in the adult world.
So grow up,
no one knows the harbinger of things to come.
Oh, my wish—to falter beneath my burdens,
To drown in failure’s cold embrace,
To be lost in the wreckage of my own undoing,
Yet rise, undead, from catastrophe’s face.
We are but fools, deceived by victory,
Blind to the lessons the struggle bestows.
We march ahead, neglecting the path,
Ignoring the wisdom that suffering knows.
I seek the hush in a world of sound,
Oh, to be free from these earthly bounds!
I lack the knowledge, the pulse of humanity,
A scavenger lost in the ruins of vanity.
Today I lay, wrapped in shame,
Grappling with the weight of blame.
Is it fate, or is it mine—
This burden carved in the hands of time?
Love not the cruel world-
where the birds take to the sky,
leaving snakes to crawl.
RESPONSIBILITIES FREEDOM
The reality is to be schooled
By the decision that bring
Unmeasurable responsibilities
As this survey fountain of service
Because we grow
When we perceive a will
Which ensures others goals
For if not so
Resources like time
Would be consumed
By delicacies of pleasure
Selfish memories of who we are
Not whom they would have.
RESPONSIBILITIES
motives
bequeathed
apparently
& ostensibly
in a
generative
proliferation
of
inherent perspective
of
upcoming
tranquillity
employed
as
aestheticas
inclusions
with conviction
embedded
in a
mirror image
to disclose
hard-pressed
perfection
translated
by reason
Some Day
We all will pass,
Through time’s immortal glass.
Life is but three trillion to one.
A magnificent gift.
To all who’ve won
A treasure trove
Of endless possibilities,
Mindful responsibilities.
To be cherished,
To be nourished,
Not perished.
Not to be taken,
Neither forsaken,
But to be awakened.
To be respected,
And protected;
Not neglected.
Mothers of mankind,
Give us peace,
Give us tranquility and serenity.
Bury our unkind deeds
Under mountains of seeds,
Our hearts do bleed.
Your one chance,
Make it dance.
Rejoice,
Rejoice in your Life.
Bumbled bumble bumble bee
flew from bloom to bloom,
busy-busy-a-buzzing-buzzy-busy
Heard by flowers
from here to there, a-mumbling to himself...
saying… no-not-right, no-not-this-one, no-no-not-good.
Until finally touching down
on daisy's yellow landing pad
for the gathering
of his day harvest.
As so be for me busy
all a-buzzing all the day,
programmed for mindless tasks
of mute survival
of all that
‘must-do doing’
‘I just-have-to…’
all that buzzing work
for to gather
all the must-haves
for my day harvest.
From paper bags to plastic bags
From manual cars to automatic cars
From telephones to handphones
But in the political world
The world stays stagnant
For just a split second
The youngsters who are the future hosts
Never take concern
And emerge to take over any responsibilities
We see oldies who are leaving sooner or later
Taking concern of everything
The youngsters still got many years to go
Sure they aren't willing to face
A future world of chaos and poverty
the boss should listen
acknowledge and respect everyone
show integrity and fairness
not show favoritism
so he can retain workers
The late night sleep,
Spent my days with the phone in my hand,
And a pair of speakers in my ears
Doesn't defines me.
All day with phone in my hands,
Songs played from the list and,
The energy I receive,
That defines me.
The words I speak,
With the aggression people give,
For a minute or more,
Doesn't defines me.
The aggression people give,
The way I act as them around me,
The way I love,
That defines me.
The way I roam,
With no wants of my own,
But the responsibilities I carry,
Doesn't defines me.
With wants of my own,
Not careless but carefree,
The satisfaction shown,
That defines me.
The person people choose,
Me to be,
The way they take me,
As granted or luck,
Doesn't defines me.
The way I take them,
Eyes of hater,
Or the ships to take care ignoring how tough
That defines me.
The moment of survival
In life,
If the geography of the journey has been seen, then
The heart will breaks in pieces on happiness
The joy of moving- the galaxy of destination
imaginations / dreams
+
On the go
If the way is seen
the environment becomes glorious
in the speed of walking and the rhythm of the road
a nice musical performance of the footsteps and the path,
+
Moving ahead
If one's feet finds a place to put
Just look!
excellent
Accident less
Safe journey,
+
While stepping up
if chances of the footprints are estimated:
guess what !
may go crazy, yes crazy, can have dream, that
There is a future
+
On the go
If there is an impression of land,
only close somewhere or the fragrance of the soil
the heart stops!
=
but,
In the course of life, if
there is only you, no steps
there are senses, no feelings,
then, impatience life, it trembles
life is in the dark Journey
life is in the black whole
Older.
I realized,
I am getting older.
Taking care of responsibilities,
growing softer as well bolder.
I realized,
I am still not enough.
Enough to understand the humanity stuffs.
But never mind, I do have time.
I want to see more,
learn more and do more.
More than who I am today,
better version of who I was yesterday.
Oh!
Now I am grown.
I am 18 years old.
As my pen begs for me to let it rise,
My mind finds itself in the cage that ties
Me down to reality, my other tasks
Are screaming for me to attend their asks,
My time is swallowed by my job, my loves,
My desperate cry for sleep, they come above
My time to write, my time my pen is free
To dance, to be devoid, to let it be,
But yet i have other roles, no second
Can be spared, but writing, it has beckoned.
22/2/20 Contest: All Things Can Tempt Me Sponsor: Beth Evans
THE DIS ADVANTAGE OF BEING UNFAVORED
IN THE EYES OF HER FRIENDS
MIGHT CAUSE YOU TO RETHINK YOUR STRATEGY
THE INFLUENCE OF OTHERS MIGHT MAKE HER TO PUT HER FAITH
IN THOSE WHO WISH TO SEPARATE YOU TWO
FINDING COMMON GROUND MIGHT MEAN
DOING SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE DOING
THEN YOU MIGHT LASH OUT AGAINST THAT SOMEONE
BECAUSE THE RESULTS DIDN'T
TURNOUT AS YOU PLANNED OR WISHED
WHICH HURTS HEAL TO BRING ON ANOTHER
MY THE SORES OF NEEDING MAKE ME WISER AGAINST
BEING HURT AGAIN
MIGHT THIS MAKE ME WISE IN DOING SO
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