Not Hex-actly a limerick !

An odd limerick such as this

penned by no literary whiz

contains six lines

& often whines

that it misses the state of bliss

where it had no identity crisis !

Astigmatism in the brain

On days like these when the world seems strange
When line this words in the, I should rearraange,
When neurons fire off in an order I don't wish
And I say whtgwz, thswz, and some more gibberish !

How should I retain some sense in this verse ?
And ensure it rhymes, and keep it somewhat terse ?
without it seeming stilted as it is right now,
Sigh.. I'm going to continue this rhyme anyhow !

I can't think straight ; Oh it's such a strain !
Yup, what I've got is astigmatism in the brain
This strange malady afflicts me now and then
& subjects you reader to these rhymes I then pen !

Only four more lines to go ; I now see some hope
To write these rhymes, in dark I've got to grope
Until kolaveri grips me, and I then hunt for a gun
Phew... I'm glad to find that I'm finally done !

A sprain in the brain

Would it constitute a heinous crime

to write poems that unabashedly rhyme?

Especially if they are silly and light

and like this one, maybe banal and trite?

Maybe it would, but I do not care

For 'serious' poetry, I have not any flair

'Nor for other types', you might well say

True, but this keeps boredom at bay !

There do come days when says my brain

'I'm off work today, I have a sprain'

I have no choice but to respect its wish

To pass the time, for reasons I fish !

The brave reader who's ventured this far

Hasn't closed his doors but left them ajar

Deserves I think an escape from this trap

                                                    The poem is done, & I'll return to my nap !

Limericks-1

Tom and Johnny had a brief chat

on benefits of being a spoilt brat

Tom yelled a bit

Johnny threw a fit

The chat didn't progress much beyond that

Travels to distant lands

Its been quite long
since the last time I wrote
I've been on a journey

with a sheep, hen & goat

Since our IQ levels

were almost the same,

we journeyed together

seeking wisdom & fame

Many a hill we climbed

traversed several roads

& spoke to wise species

such as dodos & toads

The wise ones were generous

in sharing their thoughts,

Thoughts of great value

to elders and tiny tots

The first we approached

was the dodo of course

In calling out for him,

we drove ourselves hoarse

There he was standing,

at the top of a steep hill

The hill would have given

Tenzing Norgay a chill

We quickly climbed the hill

and reached upto him

The dodo was well dressed;

looked healthy & trim

"Oh great one" we said"

Do give us some advice

How do we lead our lives

& strive to become wise?"

"Do give me a moment",

the dodo closed his eyes

"to organize my thoughts

and convey it like the wise"

moment streched to an hour

patience we began to lose

we were soon at the point

of blowing our only fuse

Atlast he opened his eyes

recovering from his trance,

examined his wallent contents,

to check safety of finance

perhaps he suspected us

of being local thieves ?

maybe smart ones at that

like the wodehousian Jeeves?

He proceeded to give us

lecture on morals

citing pirates who plunder

gemstones from corals

Just then he realized

he was going offtrack

& if he went on like that

our patience would crack

"I've always wanted to fly

that's been my aim

Ah ! the open skies,

but so very hard to tame"

"I've always been tempted

to take off from this hill"

and then he was off,

the time stood still...

The last of his species

and he too was gone

No one to tell the secrets

we hunted dusk and dawn

"This is so very unfair "

said my distraught friends"

we're so close to wisdom

but for the loose ends"

And then it struck us,

the wisdom of his deed

that one act of courage

from the best of his breed

To us, the great dodo

was truly God-sent

By that one act of his,

here is what he meant

"We lead our lives like

we're enclosed in a box"

Unaware of the beauty outside,

the rivers and the rocks"

"Go on ! Go out! and

Expore the unknown"

Live your imagination &

seeds of joy you've sown"

Get out of the box,

Now open up the lid

And soar the way

the wise dodo did...

Staring into Code

//no comments

void brain() {
long code;
short sight; }

warning- brain not found

Staring into my code
for all this while,
into lines of code
that run to a mile

leaves me yearning
for some sound sleep,
with no dreams of
either stack or heap

the remedy is to hunt
for a nice pillow
in its absence, turn
to the adjacent fellow

and say to him what
seems to be just right
my very dear friend,
"I wish you good night!"

my friend of course
is delighted to hear(this)
my departure won't
make him shed a tear

"you wish me to go",
I ask him in pain
"solitude and peace,
you wish to gain?"

my dear friend pauses,
then gives me a smile
then stares into code
for just a short while

"The code appears to
me like fog and mist
yours is a splendid plan
that i just cant resist"

"mind if i join for
a ride on your bike
i'll sing and entertain
if that you'd like"

And thus we abandoned
the long winding code
and towards our hostel,
on the bike we rode"

At the hostel gates,
as soon as we arrive
i read a sign saying
'don't write and drive'

i crash into the sign,
then yell and groan
i'll stop my poem and
tend to my broken bone!

Thoughts of an Angel

I wrote this poem when we played the 'Angel game' (Dec 2005). To give a short description, we prepare chits containing names of all players in the game, and each one becomes an Angel to the person (ward) whose name appears on the chit he/she picks. Thus we have as many angel-ward pairs as there are players in the game. Everyone is an angel to someone and a ward to someone else. The idea is, Angels do all they can(anonymously) to keep their wards happy , while the wards are brooding as to who their angel might be, when they are not busy enjoying the gifts :) Needless to say, some players act as fake angels, and mislead someone else's ward, by giving false clues as to who their real angel might be! At the end of the game, each one tries to guess their Angel correcly, perhaps from the nature of gifts, and the (oft misleading:) language their Angel uses in mails/letters.

Here i am, but a singing bard
out to guard my very own ward
does she dance, or does she sing?
or ask for just a golden ring?

Does she draw, or does she sketch?
or sleep for long hours at a stretch?
These things do bother me no end
do they trouble you too, my friend?

how do i find her favourite thing?
spy, investigate, then buy and bring
then finally she should like it or
needless to say, I’m done for

I can't solve problems such as these
they sting like scorpions, antz and bees
I think and think,but all in vain
and drop some ink and cause a stain

the problem though is still out there
while i'm pulling out all my hair
my work's stopped and research stalled
but i rejoice and see, i'm not yet bald.

Finally the solution comes to my mind
Happiess and joy, atlast I find.
As my problems take birth and evolve
it's up to MY angel to sit and solve

While i just sit and have some fun
my angel would would extract his/her own gun
and tackle my worries with utmost care
and restore to normalcy all my hair

My angel will find all my ward's likes
be it chocolates or just salary hikes
i leave you here to sing and dance
is my ward a 'he' by chance ?

An interesting exercise!

Writing a poem is not really tough
just have patience, that'll be enough!

this is different from an essay for sure
whose length and boredom, i can't endure

for poems usually are short and sweet
Reading them often is indeed a treat

you should try hard to write some sense
only then, they'd be worth above six pence

to write a poem without an aim in mind
you don't need riches, in cash or in kind

read this poem once again, but with care
first word of alternate lines, is that fair?

"was it an interesting exercise" do you ask
yup, it certainly wasn't really a boring task

an ancient wise sage it seems once said
a poem that's this long is never ever read

Interesting poems are pretty hard to find
this one isn't either, but please don't mind

Exercise caution in writing poems like this
which take you away, far away from bliss!

I scream Ice-cream !

Just last night i had a sweet dream
I’d been gifted a box of ice-cream
Sadly it turned out to be a nightmare
'Sleeps’ with nightmares ain't ever fair!

"How was it a nightmare ", do you ask?
"Enjoy the ice-cream, in glory you bask"
Alas! I hope the story is not retold
I was down with fever, cough and cold!

I woke up from the dream and sat up awake
"Where's my ice cream, where's my cake? "
Of cough and cold, there didn't seem a trace
I returned to sleep with a smile on my face :)

The Disappointment !

The greatest disappointment
that one can face
Has nothing to do with
losing a race

Having lost a game,
do you ever feel bad ?
and get all depressed,
teary-eyed and sad ?

No! You move on,
with a smile on your face
Not just a passing one,
but one that stays

But, every now and then
life strikes a blow,
one that you find
pretty hard to swallow

You think this poem's
about pathos and grief ?
Boy, I better learn to be
to-the-point and brief

What disappoints me
always without fail,
is to open my inbox

and find no new mail !

Poli-ticks .....me off !

This one was writen about 2 years back. In my earlier organization , we had buses leaving every hour starting from 6:15 PM. Having finished off my work at about 6:45 one day, and left with no intereting mail forwards to explore, I wrote this one.

This is not meant to be serious or controversial. Indeed, I have the highest respect and regard for our present Prime Minister and the President.

As we ponder over the
country’s fate
and rave and rant
and discuss n debate

whether these guys
really deserve to win
or they ought to whisked
off to the loony bin

Is there at all for
Our country any hope?
I can hear u all answer
In a single word – nope

A fact that binds
each of these guys
Is that they each produce
a large number of lies

The exact number would
no doubt exceed
The number of feet you
See in a centipede

The comforting thought
In all this fuss
Is, they’re ruling the country
And not really ‘us’

By this what I intend
to actually mean
Is that we can choose
to be the king or the queen

We can lead our life
The way we want
even if these guys
do continue to haunt .

I’m tempted to continue
This interesting debate
Alas! it’s a tragedy,
But my bus won’t wait !

Mooooooo.......eow

My latest excavations unearthed a limerick i'd written many years ago. As far as i can recall this is the only limerick i've written so far. maha silly :)

"I'm a nice friendly cat", thought a cow

It came to that conclusion, don't ask me how

It chased a mouse

all over the house

couldn't catch it though, and said "Meow "!

Po-yum or Po-yuck ?

" Should I write one (poem ) or should I not ? "
"Will the intended audience tolerate this rot ?"
I wondered , pondered , and thought very hard ,
and then I realized - 'me ain't no bard !'

"Why at all am I reading this stuff ? "
"I can't take it anymore , I've had enough "
I can hear you say to yourself , my friend ,
Congrats ! for you've made it to this poem's very end !

Essential Phobias

This one was written to be submitted as an entry to a creative writing contest at IISc that was eventually cancelled.This was one of the topics.

My psychiatrist said to me,
“Listen, my dear
There do exist things
That we ought to fear “

“Forget them not,
For I recall,
They just might cause
Your final downfall”

“So, listen to me
with utmost care
and stop spending time on
rearranging your hair”

“Getting scared isn’t
really all that hard.
In fact even easier than
Becoming a bard “

“The following things
must frighten you
Their count is more
Than just a few “

“An evil look,
an ice-cold stare
not to forget ,
an enraged bear “

“Even a bear that’s
not in rage
is best feared when
inside a cage”

“The bear and you
can amicably decide
which of you’ll be on
the cage’s inside “

“The next few things
in this formidable list,
are rain and thunder,
fog and mist “

“Fog and mist can
make your life tough
forcing you to play
blind man’s buff “

“Mountains and rivers
rivers and lakes
in addition, of course,
occasional earthquakes”

Then she paused to
Recollect her thoughts
Would she include (I wondered)
Floods and droughts ?

“Dacoits and burglars,
Robbers and thieves
Quacks and superstitions,
And baseless blind beliefs “

Would she go on
Like this for ever (I wondered)
I vowed “Listen to
her again –I will , never “

Sensing my thoughts
She said to me
“Stay for a minute more
and I’ll set you free “

“The fact is you aren’t
really mature enough.
And treat my advice to
Be a piece of bluff “

“Possibly fifty years
down the line
when you’ll be healthy,
wealthy, fit and fine, “

“You’ll recall my well-meant
profound advice
and realize that I’ve been
really nice and wise “

“For your mental well-being
I’ve always cared.
When in doubt,
It’s safe to be scared “

“The key to success
is to live in fear.
The reason for this
Will soon become clear “

With those final words
She let me leave
Upon which I heaved
a sigh of relief

It was with caution
I stepped on the road
Scared, upset, but
Definitely not bored

Was I, I wondered
Really scared enough
Boy, I was finding
This rather tough

Nothing on road to
Make me scared
And help me find out
How I had fared .

Then I decided
I’ll choose to be brave
And brave I shall be
When I go the grave!

I continued on my journey
Confident and bold
Though that wasn’t what
I’d just been told

And since then it’s
Been crystal clear
The way to live life
Is to live without fear.

The Theory Of Photoffs

Background : Photons emit light. Photoffs emit darkness.

A photon and a photoff
went to a party
the photon was bright
& photoff, hale and hearty !

The photon said he's famous
the photoff didn't care.
cos the scrutiny it would undergo( if discovered )
would be too much for it to bear !

The photon delivered a lecture
the photoff began to snore
when woken up by the photon ,
the photoff called it a bore !

The two had an argument
they both had a fight
and they never did stop
till this theory came to light !

Eavesdropping

I went to the café
At half past one
To have some coffee
And fruit bun

The place was small,
There wasn’t much crowd
No one was yelling, or
Speaking out aloud

Seated by my side
Were an illustrious pair
With regard to their surroundings
They didn’t seem to care

The two seemed interesting
And I was pretty bored
And boredom is something
I’ve never really adored.

So I was all ears
To whatever they said
Meanwhile ensuring that
I stayed well fed

“ Eavesdropping, my dear
is a profound art
So complex, that I
Don’t know where to start ”

“ You should pretend to
be lost in thought
while your victim is
unaware of the plot ”

“ Whatever they(victims) say,
anything they hum
will be handed over to the future
for generations to come “

“ It’s not that easy,
in fact pretty tough
to not be suspected of
overhearing ‘their’ stuff “

“ The victim at times
may stare at you.
Act with caution,
For that’s your cue ”

“ You shouldn’t get caught
while in the act
It’ll help you keep
Your reputation intact “

“ Tilt your head
and stare into thin air
with an expression that says
I don’t really care “

“ If you found these things
to be in no way hard
you’re good enough to
join the Scotland Yard “

“ Unlike the idiot
seated by our side
he’s been caught
there’s nowhere he can hide “

With these final words
the man turned to me
and needless to say

I turned to flee !

Fifteen Seconds of Fame

I occassionally write poems just for the fun of it.All my poems

are silly and they are intended to be so.Here's one of them.

It's pretty long, but do try and read the whole thing.

I wrote this poem with
An intention to sell
It to editors of magazines
Who identified talent (?) well

With this aim in mind
I set out on the road
With not insignificant resemblance
To an immature blind toad

The roads in the city (I discovered)
Were designed with care
To confound every human
Alien, giraffe and bear

But, with a focused mind
And a determined outlook
I searched the city’s
Every corner and nook

To get to the head-office of
the magazine that paid
Large amounts of money
typically uncovered in a raid

I had visions of becoming
very famous and rich
A man sought after for his
poetry prose and pitch

I’d become a writer with
Unmatched skill
A parallel in poetry to
The computer world’s bill (gates)

People would flock to
Hear and read my stuff
And having read tones of it
Wouldn’t still have had enough

My happy thoughts were
Soon put to an end
When I negotiated a
Rather dangerous bend

My car, I discovered
To my utter chagrin
Wasn’t in a condition
You’d call ‘fit n fine’

On successful completion of
The tragic car crash
I was well prepared for an essay
On ‘why not to drive rash’

The crash didn’t dampen
My spirits at all
Except that the other insisted
On an unpleasant brawl

Having extricated myself
From the noisy scene
And wondered for a minute
On what might have been

I chugged along safely
To the editor’s office
With a look on my face that
Said ‘I am, but a novice’

The editor read this poem
With utmost care
Never pausing for an instant
To rearrange his hair

He then gave me an
Unfriendly look
That seemed to say
‘You resemble a crook!’

I told him ‘ A million
is all I want.
Please pay by next week
if now you can’t ‘

The editor’s face was
Overcome with grief
He rose from his chair
And yelled at me ‘You thief!‘

‘You crash into my office
And make me read this crap
And further expect me to
Fall into your trap ’

‘Me ain’t paying anything
you owe me five hundred
For my views on your poem
I’ve just now sat and read ‘

Lest you reader end up
Saying the same
I stop here, Pray,
Where’s my fifteen seconds of fame?