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My world

  • Paging Ms Time, I have a question for you

    Time, my friend, you have to tell me,

    How is it that you have managed to be,

    By yourself for all of eternity,

    Being solo but not lonely?

    They say you are a great teacher,

    Able instructor but not a preacher,

    Killing students who reached her,

    Most respected of all creatures!

    Yesterday, today, and tomorrow,

    Journeys from Indus valley to Cairo,

    Joy, jealousy, anger, and sorrow,

    Lifetime of emotions borrowed!

    You’ve got such a troll following,

    They are all really just wallowing,

    Trying to kill you with idle rowing,

    Or prostrate with their heads bowing.

    Nobody manages to come close,

    If they can even get over being morose,

    Nobody compares you to rainbows,

    Only think of you as darkness abode.

    You leave behind no descendants, no legacy,

    Just humans following the circle of ecstasy,

    If you were an ocean, you’d be without piracy,

    Or the perfect lover, with no jealousy.

    Give me tips to live through you better,

    Through weather that’s dry or wetter,

    Leave behind no creditor or debtor,

    Your word I’ll follow to the letter.

    This solo journey is quite a handful,

    Before it gets good it’s just dreadful,

    Aging rapidly, I’m just so rueful,

    Staying tight-lipped when I have a mouthful.

    If and when I do learn enough about you,

    I’m not sure I’ll ever be allowed to,

    Pass on the learning like Lao Tsu,

    Have anybody a chance to appreciate you.

    Even so, why wont you just tell me,

    How is it that you manage to be,

    All by yourself for eternity,

    Respectfully solo, but not lonely?


    Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay 

  • O Ball, don't you deflate!

    My rum, my rules,
    My electricity, my joules
    It make me high,
    All I wanna do is fly,
    Of course I'm no butterfly,
    Just finding my life's why.
    In slowmo I can see it all,
    The players fighting; referee's call.
    The cheering crowds,
    And the separating clouds.
    Oh but wait I'm just a ball,
    For a mo' I though I had it all.
    As I approach the ground,
    Stadium errupts; God awful sound. 
    I barely just miss the net,
    That player kicks the air in regret.
    Game went from the red to the blue,
    Collective sigh as if on cue.
    What about me, dude?
    Sure ure being terribly rude.
    As if I have no emotions, my own,
    The Monk, with Ferrari disowned.
    No, no personification there,
    A football has no here or there.
    My time in air was just that,
    Before I eventually hit back, flat.
    Though they certainly hope I don't,
    Don't wanna spoil the game, so won't.
    But what of me, my high and lows,
    Unsurpassable time n rainbows?
    Guess they exist just for me,
    My eyes n my dictionary
    How self deceiving can I be?
    Just like a human, really?!
    Anyway, loved the feel of the wind,
    Until the humans keyed rescind.
    After all this is over,
    I'll be lying like a 3leaf clover.
    Unwanted and ignored,
    Deflated and fatally bored.
    Oh wait, it's my rum, n my rule,
    My story n I can still be cool.
    If not in 'play' then in 'stop',
    Ball would be in air until it drops.
    Story's not over just yet,
    Win or lose, still a valid bet.
    Outside of the rum cloud,
    Wisdom stays and says aloud.
    Float, fly, stay in the air,
    Even kicked, don't be worse for wear.
    When u hit ground, don't deflate,
    End a hero, choose that fate.

    Image result for free football in field photo

  • Flight plan

    As I lay at night trying to sleep, it turns out
    there are other plans made by my mind.
    When silence makes the only sound,
    I reminisce cloudy milestones I left behind.

    That compound with its birds of a feather,
    whose flock I never managed to join.
    As I look back trying to visualize, whether,
    my fate was on the other side of the coin.

    That first male who professed his lurrve,
    whose naive promises my naïveté believed.
    The proverbial well into which I then dove,
    'n the un-drowning life lessons I received.

    That reflection in the well had me shocked,
    with face, appearance and body language.
    And the unusual confident streak mocked,
    lo, the fledgling was a bird out of its cage!

    That awful flight with the amazing 'boss',
    A combination that begged for a change,
    My struggle with accepting it just as it was,
    As I finally realized it outta my flight range.

    That vision of the perfect nest, its features
    would simply need be warmth and space.
    As I found it bordering jungle creatures,
    I decided to mingle with them unfazed.

    That  metamorphosis I could self-witness,
    being in the picture and strangely out of it.
    The bird had flown its nest, a wanderess,
    untamed and yet uncaught; proud of it.

    birdie num num.jpg
    But, 'uncaught' is a beautiful thing as it,
    spells magnetism they find hard to resist.
    Chase relentlessly with their might and wit,
    Tirelessly, yet blindly they just persist!

    I wonder how long shall I manage, staying
    untethered and free-spirited despite it all,
    I find myself as I often do - praying,
    flying high or low, just wish I'd never stall!