Evading the Question...

Another meeting...another poem...a short one this time.

"I'll get back to you."

is what all say when they have no clue

about what they've got to do.

It's a fact that we all know is true.

"There's no time now, we will take this off line."

seems to be everyone's byline.

They may say they have no time

though truth be told they pray for intervention divine.

"I have some work now, we will discuss it later."

is their way of telling you that you should have known better.

You are asking them question on such a terrifying matter,

that rather than answer you, they wrestle and alligator.

Oh what is this conundrum that defines human nature!

Doesn't he comprehend that a safe today doesn't mean a question free future?

But as they all say, as you sow so shall you reap,

so you may find yourself guilty if in the past you may peek.

A day in the life of...

I wrote this poem while attending one of the endless stream of meetings that are a part of the corporate life. It's senseless (so don't try and make any sense of it), stupid (so please don't try to find any deeper meaning in it), and is borne out of a deep desperation to avoid going to sleep during the meeting.

Sitting in a big square room,

I bite my nails as the big shots croon,

they tell of their plans to conquer the world,

with nothing in stead but a bunch of nerds.

They yap and they babble, about things unheard of,

"Hear ye!!!", says the leader, "we will beat all competition off!!!"

we nod in agreement with no clue nor hint,

numbness takes over the brain as we watch his eyes glint.

"Just get the product out!!!", says the thin bald guy,

but what do we do if no one's ready to buy?

this is the buzzing in one and all's mind,

the answer to which neither sane nor insane man can find.

The fingers go on clicking and the slides go on sliding,

all the meetings and presentations bring along more bad tidings,

some feature's not working and the UI's gone kaput,

the database's been overloaded and there's still so much to put.

Then they turn to documentation and then it's time to pray,

with all eyes upon us, "Where's the UI?" we say,

the developers squirm in their seat,

embarrassed to see their aura getting beat.

Boldly gets up their chief and surveys the crowd,

"Gentleman", he proclaims, "what's life without some mystery and shroud?"

amidst all the bewilderment and nerves that finally seem to fray,

"The meeting's over", he says with a lazy smile, "please help yourselves to the samosas on the tray."

P.S: This poem is a work of fiction. All the characters and events described in this poem are fictional and bear no resemblance to any living character or actual event. Any resemblance is purely co-incidental.

Walking into the light

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman


"O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish;

what good amid these, O me, O life?"

Answer: That you are here; that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

                                                     - John Keating, 'Dead Poets Society'

The clouds looked dark and the wind howled loud,
the lonely wanderer walked through it all without a shred of doubt,
a grim smile on his face and his fears put to test,
he made his way through the raging tempest.

The trees were shaking,
beneath the stern gaze of the storm they were quaking,
the sword of lightning wrought havoc with each stroke,
amidst all this he stood tall akin to an oak.

The river was raging,
against the wind a war it was waging,
but he swam through the river,
and not once did his heart shiver.

The night grew cold,
but the traveler stood bold,
it was a battle of wills,
bringing forth all their skills.

The winds screamed louder,
and the lightning smote harder,
the wanderer’s heart grew darker,
and his steps seemed to falter.

Then the veil of clouds parted,
with a spear of light it was thwarted,
the spirits of the nature seemed uplifted,
and the gloom and the darkness departed.

The wanderer raised his head and looked heavenwards,
there was joy in his eyes and he was lost for words,
he fell to his knees, his mind no more misted,
and with peace in his heart, the tranquil morning his eyes feasted.

Hi all...I must have been very depressed when I wrote this poem. That's the only way one can write such a crappy poem...but still, it's my blog...so I guess I can pretty much write in whatever I want...any way here goes....

LOST
A drop in the ocean,
A cloud in the sky,
I see me in them,
I am lost, I am lost.

I know not where to go,
the horizon's out of sight,
the anguish grows and the fears seem to put on a fight,
I am lost, I am lost.

Yesterday seems far away,
today seems too good to stay,
tomorrow is a hope that seems to sway,
I am lost, I am lost.

My mind cannot see beyond thd haze,
the path ahead seems to be a maze,
the possibilities of failure never cease to amaze,
I am lost, I am lost.