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Topsy

Not a great morning, I say, but do what you can and just pray.
Ces`t la vie!
The world is at times
A bit topsy, a lot turvy,
For you or me
Or her or him,
The morning may seem,
A bit like
Coffee gone cold,
A bit like
A slightly burnt cookie,
That too without cream.

Your mood may seem low,
The sun may glare
And pale your glow,
Life may bring you,
Blow after blow.

If this be such a day,
I wish good luck
Comes your way,
Hope all the odds
You do overcome,
And find solutions,
Where there seemed none.
You’ll get there…be back in control soon! This too shall pass.

My new poetry book

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09FCCC9V4/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_awdb_imm_770WVE38NHSNTR6F2R75

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https://youtu.be/CdIL3r3fkcE

Anticipation

Problems are wrapped solutions. Unwrap and solve!
Step out 

With a feeling

Of anticipation.

Do resolve

To learn from

Both experiences,

Bitter and sweet,

The life lesson:

Duality is the norm,

And co-existence is

To go with the flow,

Or choose to decide

Your own journey,

And harder your boat

You must row.

Continually emerge

Stronger and evolve.

Embrace a pinch

Of true dynamism

Remember wrapped inside

the nagging problem,

Hides the solution.
You are stronger than you believe!

A new day, a new way…be AWESOME today!

Be YOU and do MORE!
Work becomes effortless

When you perform

With keen interest

And sincerity.


When you do your best

Out of anxiety,

You block the flow

Of fresh ideas.


When you do your best

Calmly and with love,

Your ideas like a fount

Seem endless and

Excite you to do more.



This brings magic

To your work,

This is the 'extra'

In the ordinary:

The extraordinary.



Choose well!
ExTrA OrDiNarY iS nOt OdD

Mommy muses…

Good bye
On the purple couch
She does belong,
And she sings along,
Between numbers divine-
Ruth B's 'Lost boy'
She plays again,
And humming Trampoline,
By amazing Shaed and Zayn,
My princess shifts,
In the next moment,
Taylor Swift's
Melody drifts.


Outdoors, the Virus
Covid 19 corpses pile,
Indoors 24 by 7,
Locked down we cope
To keep alive hope,
Try home remedies so naive,
Praying they do survive,
Days elapsed more than
Three Sixty Five.


I keep glued my eye
To the 15×17" screen,
On the digital
'virtual' platform
I 'Meet' strangers,
And also my own,
Our voices low,
Our spirit sunk,
With cameras off
On Zoom,
Our world's shrunk
Into our living room.

Her O level Exams
In 2021 scheduled,
How short a reign
Childhood ruled!
I feel cheated
By Time, fooled.


Am I ready
For the silence
That will follow soon,
For Papa Johns pizza,
No more sulky tantrum,
No one over-the-moon?

Am I ready
To say goodbye
As she'll pack
My heavy heart
In her backpack?

Are moms able
To recall
How to thrive?
Or do they amidst
A mount of
Muted memories cry?

Will I pretend
To smile and survive,
Counting each day,
Till my kid beloved,
For a short visit
Will arrive next May?
Is that how I'll
Suddenly, rapidly
Go wrinkled and grey?

Till then,
Though listless,
Am I suppose to
Just breathe,
And glance
At lifeless doors
And dull chores replete
Just repeat, repeat, repeat, and repeat?

How do I thrive
After my nestling,
Far away will fly,
Into a distant sky?


At 4, she ruined my lipstick, scribbling
‘Mamma I ❤ you’