That rotund monstrosity of a creature

with a distorted face and contorted features

Picking me out for not paying attention

what’s the harm in a siesta post digestion

So I fell asleep in the middle of a lecture

it just means she should have done better!

For how could one appreciate the nuances

of those groovy colors doing funny dances

unless you close your eyes after seeing

the sun outside your window gleeming

If I fell asleep it was her to blame

English grammer was never my claim to fame

I know it sounds like absolute gibberish

but hey in my poem i could call it fibberish

After all there are no bespectacled ladies

breathing down my neck, like hades

Always checking if I got my grammer right

now I is getting it wrong, let her do what she might!

May she stand on her head or upright

which sane mortal would see that ghastly sight

There are prettier things that deserve my attention

like the curiosities of what the cat just brought in

Having been blessed with a superior mind

I really don’t give a rat’s behind

for people who are are adversely opined

in matters of resting the human mind

My cerebrum lost it’s cheery disposition

discombobulated with articles and prepositions

As if that were not enough already

her wrath comes down upon me in a flurry

She should be glad that I did not use a club

to express how I felt, give her a nice nub

So ungrateful that I in fact turned up

to attend that class, like eating a death cup

And so I hear her constantly comaplaining

about me not working, not listening

Well that’s all I get I guess for being,

a dutiful student, hey is that a butterfly I’m seeing?

The pain I feel when I believe

that I am someone I am not

The emotional roller coaster ride

that is tearing me apart

Am I doing the right thing

I ask myself all along

with answers that confuse my head

I just carry on…

I am changing, this I know

I am not the same person I was

some days ago,

things have changed

and I have had to move on

but it’s difficult to take the leap

Scared unsure of every step

I take out of my comfort zone

This is not who I was once

is this who I am now?

The judgement I pass about myself

is always cruel, so harsh, so low

I would have never done this once upon a time

but why does it not seem so wrong now?

Have I changed to something I am not

or has my definition of myself changed?

It is so confusing to be in conflict with myself

just praying that this wont leave me deranged

I thank those who are there

to hear my woeful tales

All I need is a patient ear

when everything else fails

But this time it is up to me

to push myself to the extreme

for once to make up my mind

about who I really am…

Then again I will never know for sure

for my judgement feels so clouded

with the smoke of society’s opinion

and all the voices in my head crowded

But I guess that is life in all..

in the end there will never be a “for sure..”

It’s been a while since I have posted and for good reason too.. I took off to the “Queen of the hills”, Darjeeling. Apart from sipping some authentic Darjeeling tea while at the tea plantations and witnessing a spectacular sunrise I will fondly remember the experience for all the little things that have now become special memories.. I have lots more to say and will do so soon. But in the meanwhile here are a few glimpses of what I will remember Darjeeling by..


Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray,
And when I cross’d the Wild,
I chanc’d to see at break of day
The solitary Child.

No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wild Moor,
The sweetest Thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the Fawn at play,
The Hare upon the Green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

“To-night will be a stormy night,
You to the Town must go,
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your Mother thro’ the snow.”

“That, Father! will I gladly do;
‘Tis scarcely afternoon–
The Minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the Moon.”

At this the Father rais’d his hook
And snapp’d a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe,
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse, the powd’ry snow
That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time,
She wander’d up and down,
And many a hill did Lucy climb
But never reach’d the Town.

The wretched Parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlook’d the Moor;
And thence they saw the Bridge of Wood
A furlong from their door.

And now they homeward turn’d, and cry’d
“In Heaven we all shall meet!”
When in the snow the Mother spied
The print of Lucy’s feet.

Then downward from the steep hill’s edge
They track’d the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they cross’d,
The marks were still the same;
They track’d them on, nor ever lost,
And to the Bridge they came.

They follow’d from the snowy bank
The footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank,
And further there were none.

Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living Child,
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome Wild.

O’er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

IFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall?
Rapidly, merrily,
Life’s sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily
Enjoy them as they fly!
What though Death at times steps in,
And calls our Best away?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O’er hope, a heavy sway?
Yet Hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair!
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The privilege of anonymity

is a beautiful thing

when you can speak your mind

and always get away with it

Along with it come certain tendencies

like a wicked streak concealed in mysteries

for none will know who it was who spoke

yet the words been said, a lasting blow

But when all know who has spake

you have to accept, cannot fake

For oh cruel this tendency

to bask in glory of victory

you bring out in me the need to share

to tell everyone who you hope cares

But out in the sun with no curtain to hide

you must gracefully reconcile

for now they know who is behind those words

and now you stand on a double-edged sword

For in anonymity my thoughts flowed

liked an uninterrupted stream downhill

but now I check my every word

can my writing be truthful still?

But I continue to write my heart

for my pen will not let me stop

so many things I have to say

Think whatever they may

I would like to thank my dutiful friends

who pulled me out of the shadows

for now I fear nothing again

especially words like critical arrows

It will only make me responsible

for now I know I am accountable

for the words I speak hold some brevity

I am no longer in anonymity

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Some favorite lines…

This too shall pass..
- Anonymous

Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.
- Calvin Coolidge