I wish to be a fish
I want to be a font
I like to be a spike
I long to be a song
…
I yearn to be a sun
Where joy has just begun
I try to be a fly
Go wandering in the sky
I need to be a seed
With a book to read
I dream to be a beam
Go travelling through a stream
I ask to be a task
Who wears a scary mask
I seem to be a steam
Floating with my team
…
I wish to be a fish
I want to be a font
I like to be a spike
I long to be a song
This Little Heaven Of Mine
What if I wake up tomorrow
With eyes that no longer see
While my son grows more gorgeous
More than what is known to me?
…
What if I wake up tomorrow
With ears that cannot hear
While my daughter sings a melody
More soothing than a bird’s cheer?
…
What if I wake up tomorrow
With a mouth that cannot speak —
How will I tell them my stories
Of my lowest trough and highest peak?
…
What if I don’t wake up tomorrow
To my children by my side —
How could that heaven be better
Than the one where I reside?
An Imperfect Universe
The silence of the nights
Have made me who I am
Yes, I speak with great delight
No, I’m not one of them
Yes, I am not perfect
This is how I’m supposed to be
If there is such a person
I sure would like to see
Yes, my colours are different
My thoughts can light a fire
My veins breathe uneasy
My blood is full of desire
If I had a chance to choose
To be in someone’s shoe
I would gladly toss that chance away
I would never want to be you
The sky is full of beaming stars
There is no star like me
Without me this universe
Would then so empty be
If I Were Born A Little Early
If I were born a little early
I would have made electricity
First to say — The Earth is round
Cures for diseases I would have found
Would have theorized gravitational law
Leave everyone trailing in awe
Would have had a star named after me
A constellation or galaxy
Future generations would have studied me
My brain, my life, my family
But I was born a little too late
Never had the chance to become so great
All the others took away my due
So I’m stuck here writing poems for you
It Wasn’t Me
I looked at the mirror and I saw
Someone else staring back at me
The face was similar to mine but
It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me
There was guilt all over his face
It was plain and obvious to see
Lies dripping down from his lips
It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me
Regret hanging from his brows
Deceit circling wild and free
Wings of envy on his nose
It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me
Then I looked at him even closely
Those eyes of sin and misery
That look was indistuingishable
It must be me, it must be me
Thank You, Readers
Is it my love for writing
Or my love for rhymes?
Not sure what has kept me going
Through these wonderful times
Is it the chance to touch
And make merry somebody’s heart
And know I’ve made a difference
Possibly with my art?
There may be many reasons
Possibly a hundred or more
One thing is for certain
Of that I am very sure
Without my faithful readers
This I could not have done
Thank you for always being there
Thanks for making it fun
A Hundred Poets Reside In Me
A hundred poets reside in me
A hundred? I don’t know why
One just writes what he can see
Two is bold, Three is shy
…
Forty Four can get no rhyme done
Twenty wants to plagiarize
But is held back by Sixty One
Who wants to win the Nobel Prize
…
Then there’s Thirty Six and Eight
Who are too lazy to write
Unlike Seventy who sits late
To finish his sweet song at night
…
Then there’s Twelve and Ninety Four
Who always have a fight
They can’t seem to agree anymore
About which girl they wish to write
…
So many more on this list
Like Fifteen, Sixteen, Eighty Three
One of them just wrote this
A hundred poets reside in me
The Husband Of Misfortune – Part 2
All my ventures have failed to pay
None of my debts seem to go away
From all directions, troubles come
I’ve lost my cars and my home
Now we live in a rented place
Whenever I’m out, I hide my face
Still the kids they laugh at me
My clothes are drenched with misery
All my shares have fallen
Last week my watch was stolen
I think I’ve forgotten how to smile
For I haven’t done it in a while
No family I can fall back upon
All my friends have moved on
Just me and my misery and my strife
And my lovely, luckless wife
I wish sometimes that I were dead
But my luck is just too bad
God doesn’t want me with Him so soon
I, the husband of Misfortune
The Husband Of Misfortune
Whatever I do, wherever I go
I am too famous, don’t you know?
People recognise me straightaway
Whether it’s night or whether it’s day
It’s not for something I have done
There’s just nothing that I have won
But I dance to her ghastly tune
I, the husband of Misfortune
I don’t remember how it came to be
She has always been with me
Causing all troubles in my life
My lovely loyal luckless wife
(To be continued)
My Little Garden
I have a little garden
A garden full of words
Prose they act like flowers
The poems act like birds
It blooms the whole year ’round
Whether spring or snow or fall
For reading is like rain
And sunshine for them all
Never a dull day I’ve had
Never have a dull day I will
For years and years from now
This garden be growing still
