Skip to main content
I 'm not blaming you
--------------------------------
In the brightest hour of day
when I recall you
you avoid me with plea
that you are too busy.
When sun set in the west
inside scattered thought 
you still in your work wave
to catch the last fish.
Night in its magical touch
sing the sweetest song,
Amid the darkness
I find my soul waiting
with desires and dreams
for a little care
and share,
of the story of whole day,
you in your deep slumber
whisper the turn and twist
of your schedule
as you are a perfect man
to worship work as God.
I'm now
a learner
following your path,
Sometime think
is this a true color of life???
or, a trend of civilization
where we are the busy particles
of a great project.
.................................
by sarojini pattayat-23/03/2013









Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Changes, the part of life

  The day jumps in the lap of night and passes the threshold of dusk. Life becomes still beautiful, accepting changes and welcoming new civilisation and welcoming new people to act as per their luck perhaps. How could problems around us be stopped as those are part of changes? So it would be better to accept and walk on.  Civilization changes and people change. Changes is  their way of life. No one can stop.

The chirps

 Listened the chirps of morning birds, waked up, life seemed easy... Life of a writer is not  easy. Writing is hard. Self doubts will make you cripple.  Self learning is most important.  ************** Give food to birds. They will be happy. The sun is rising up and up and on  it's journey. ***** Ideas are cunning. They always play hide and seek game.  *****  Brainstorming is difficult. 

The Chirps

  Under the blue sky, I could do many things for survival. I was in fear. The brown kite was soaring around. Its wings were massive, and I recalled the day when it was about to jump over me and catch me. Thanks to that old lady of the rooftop garden. I hid myself under her newly curated green plants, and her presence there saved me. Now this rooftop garden became my home, and I chirp here for the old lady whom I have heard that my chirps were a song for her.