Sonnet---------Why do you write?

A friend of mine asked me why do I write? Hence this sonnet:

Why do you write?

What do you write, why do you write
How do you express yourself so well?
Whatever you write makes us think, dwell
On things that are grey, not black or white
How do you interpose darkness with light?
How can you make us go from heaven to hell
You words manage to take us to new heights

I write because I have something to say
To show what I feel about the world at large
Something propels me to put my thoughts
On paper, certain issues make me sway
These feelings just issue forth and barge
Out of mind, thoughts are no longer noughts

More than just education

Entering the portals of my old school
What did I see, what did I really observe
The children’s sense of learning still rules
They accept education without reserve

In school, we learn to read and write
Here the life’s skills too are taught
Interpersonal relations are given light
Knowledge here can never be bought

Those shape us for the world and life
Laying stress on communication skills
Coping with tensions, emotions & strife
Interlocked this with adventure & thrills

School is not just books and information
It is the first step to handle all situations

Thoughts about fast-paced life and drugs

Wrote this after someone high-profile almost died of overdose of cocaine or was it heroin...They have had drinks too. His friend died. He blamed it on the friend for acquiring the drugs...He had everything going...why did he need drugs? As he is high-profile, he might get scot-free. It wasn't the first time, he had taken those drugs..

Why have we all come to this state?
What is it that driving us to drugs or so?
Thin line between friend and foe
Do we then blame it all on fate?
Will that redeem us in anyway?
Maybe it will pull us into its vortex
Where it will it all lead difficult to say
Shall we let loose our guards; be lax?

Why these thoughts come into mind?
Never giving us a moment of peace
Will we ever be free, destiny be kind?
All these confusion will they ever cease?

With positive outlook we need not be sad
With faith, we can look so much ahead!

Another Sonnet! For someone who couldn't write one a while back, I am not doing too bad!

Sonnet---Unsung

Great warrior that he was, conquered lands
He feared nothing, bravest of them all
Be it mountains, seas or hot desert sands
On the forefront of battles, always on call

Restless spirit that he was, roamed the world
Nothing held him long or tied him down
Conventions were not for him, neither a mold
No wishes for laurels or any kind of crown

But woe betide what went so very wrong
What made him so ill, confining him to bed?
He was in sanatorium, with dose so strong
As he couldn’t eat, with pipes he was being fed

Soon he passed away with no one there
For one so bold and courageous, was it fair?

Another sonnet----Shakespearean one!

Busy Bee!

He is always so busy
From morning to night
Driving us all tizzy
With antics so bright

Not he a doctor
Not an ironsmith
Neither is an engineer
Nor any merchant’s kith

What makes him engage?
What pushes him so?
Though he is no savage
Something makes him go

Despite his hyperactivity
He is so lovable
Always with a ditty
He turns the table

What else can he be?
He is only nine
Always full of glee
This nephew of mine


My nine year old nephew, Amlaan, insisted, I write a poem about him. So here it is…it describes him to a T!

Sonnet----Working Man

looking out of my bedroom window, i see
that man toiling; sweating in dust and heat
paused he for a moment, standing on his feet
then sat down on the floor wanting to flee
deep in thoughts, he stared at the church door;
longing to escape the sun and retreat
into its calmness, and out of the street
wishing to be one with God and soar.

his employer yelled at him, he came back
out of his reverie and work yet again
practical world had intruded now
ah, well he had to get back on track
setting aside his thoughts and be sane
with renewed vigour, he toiled and how!

Worst of the worst writer

Worst of the worst writers, that’s me
as no one even bothers to read
Whatever I post on S and C

What kind of writing really leads?
As I myself have failed to comprehend
Why should anyone care, if my heart bleeds

On these, I have tried my hands
Fifty-fivers, lunes and/or cinquains
Not a single trace, nowhere they stand

Not for me long-winded explanations
Nor produced chef-d'oeuvre of literary kind
Neither did any kind of impersonations

Social issues are mostly in my mind
Something compels me to pen those
How can I ignore and put those behind

Someone shed light, what prose
or poetry do I write? To go with flow
I never tow the line. In compose

mode, whose trumpet do I blow?
Getting across my thoughts is my goal
Does use of difficult words make one glow?

Simplistic writing I thought, touched the soul.
As usual I was wrong assuming it all
Nutcase that I am, never saw loopholes

I enumerated my weak points, now ready to fall
After taking home the worst writer’s crown,
I will paint the town red and have a ball!

Wrote this for Why I am the worst writer Exercise thread on S&C

CONFLICT

He lifted her veil, looked at her face
Sleep so deep, lashes so long
Casting shadows on her cheeks like lace

He stared at her with longing so strong
Tenderness and desire fighting within
Wanting her, how can that be wrong?

Mind, heart or body, who was to win?
This deep-seeded need, was that lust?
With all his guts, body wanted him to sin.

Closed his eyes, stopped himself just
From tasting her sweetness while she slept
Keeping distance from her was a must

He walked away not giving in to whim
Would rather wait for her to love him!

Terza rima poem...chk out the rhyming pattern, you can see what I mean. except for the last two lines!

Law of Nature

Switching on the light
I found a slimy lizard
slithering on the wall
into a nook in there

After a while it was back
following a tiny insect
on a hot pursuit

Paused for a while
and was so still
watching the insect
waiting for a kill

Seeing no action
the insect moved
in that instant
the lizard swooped

In single moment
caught its prey and
swallowed it whole

In fascinated horror,
I watched it happen
rooted to the spot
with unblinking eyes

Law of nature.
Death for one is
food for the other!

Compulsive need for attention

This has been in my mind for sometime now, to be precise, some months now. It involves most of us in our present life style.

The big question is: have we really become so depraved that we are almost always seeking attention to ourselves?

Why the need to be always in the move? To be seen at the right place, at the right time. To be part of every slice of life that one can get? It might not even interest us but still we want to be seen there. We want to be in the midst of a huge crowd, have a long list of so called friends without any deep friendships. Live one day at a time. Come from one party, mixer or whatever it is called now, and get ready for the next. What is it that drives people for these meets? Why is this constant need to be in the move, to be thought of a nice sociable person, to be liked by all?

Most people I see around me are so busy doing all these and more that they have forgotten to enjoy their own company, to quietly enjoy a book, to listen to music in solitude.

Are we afraid of solitude? Do we fear ourselves/our own company? More precisely, is it lack of self-confidence? Why does one feels so compelled to seek out company? What are we afraid of?

When I refuse to tow the line, I am thought of as someone gone bonkers. What’s wrong with enjoying my own company? I can’t go out each single day. I don’t even want to. I need time for myself; I need to be with myself at times. Why do I have to be part of the crowd? What’s wrong with being oneself? Why do we avoid ourselves? That’s how I see it, avoiding ones own company

If we have to be on constant move than why not do something worthwhile for the society? Why not give back something to this world?

To get answer to all these questions, I feel it's time to sit down and think; time for introspection for all of us.