You want to know how I spend my time?
I walk the front lawn, pretending
to be weeding. You ought to know
I'm never weeding, on my knees, pulling
clumps of clover from the flower beds: in fact
I'm looking for courage, for some evidence
my life will change, though
it takes forever, checking
each clump for the symbolic
leaf, and soon the summer is ending, already
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
There was three kings unto the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
How much grit do you think you've got?
Can you quit a thing that you like a lot?
You may talk of pluck; it's an easy word,
And where'er you go it is often heard;
But can you tell to a jot or guess
Just how much courage you now possess?
You may stand to trouble and keep your grin,
But have you tackled self-discipline?
Have you ever issued commands to you
To quit the things that you like to do,
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
Is there a time when friendship does not count,
Where bonds forged in war are callously
Is now the time for their suffering to willfully
As a passing blight, a chore ill-gotten?
Is desperation always someone else’s burden,
To be observed but ultimately ignored,
Their fate unclear, easier to draw that curtain
Let your heart go where it wants
Let not your rigidity haunt.
Winner is the one who inspite of fear does not daunts,
Take the control and empower you to write your own script and font.
Listen to the music within you
Respond to the artist who is playing the flute.
It might happen that it gets too late,
Caught between Covid teeth
Some fall down;
Some with guts and zeal
Usually stand up.
Among all who exist and rise
Only the fittest survive.
History smiles on paper
As mankind is known for eons
By its immune power—
Deaths of young people, near and dear ones,
Their dead bodies float in mourning rivers
While we helplessly watch ourselves
Being carried away by uncontrolled tears.
They die in hospitals, built for saving lives,
And we stay back home or in quarantines,
Practising the precautionary measures
While honoring the helpless govt. guidelines.
Gloomy darkness seems to have engulfed
The whole world of life
As light has hidden its head behind.
Sobs of sorrows are heard
Everywhere in each and every terrain.
The flocks are forced to stay back home in fear.
And I am glued to the scary news channels
In the hope of good news
That the hard times have passed