The overcooked idea

 It was something that flit by

that gave me pause in my thoughts

creating much chaos, I do not lie

refrain do I from connecting the dots?

Disturbed I am by something physical

but drawn to return to speculation so whimsical

A break in links often disturb my plans

if it wasn't for those pesky eyes

I would conjure those thoughts in shallow pans

and enjoy the newly made curry with some rice

but now I can do only little but weep

having been shaken from thoughts so deep

This is another moment lost

to a sound vibrating within my ears

I would have the idea on a roast

marveling it's taste with some pears

but it has been sadly sabotaged

by something so hopelessly camouflaged

I have lost the pattern in my thoughts

to a weird smell that reached my nostrils

I would boil the concept to a froth.....

but alas why do I feel so nasal

There is a sight that open my eyes

and a dry hiss pulls my ears

sitting on the cooktop in front of me

lies the burn remnants of nothing nice

smoke so strong it bring me to tears

and now I have no evening meal.

Note: This poem is about daydreaming while cooking. and not noticing that the food getting burnt is trying to pull you from your reverie, until it is too late

Releasing some magic

 Traditions have passed from generation to generation

Some recent and many from sources unknown

Elders say it is from the beginning of civilization

while their faces crease heavily with a frown

Warnings galore of pricks not unlike that of a cactus

until you follow and put those lores to practice

Some of these are carefully worded caution

but averse to letting others go scot-free

many of these are probably a compulsive rendition

no thanks to some person buried deep within the family tree

Generations later have been unwilling

to change something that has been supposedly there from the beginning

Realization dawns that we are all different in nature

but we have taken important traits of one we consider greater

therefore we end up being a little caricature

our fantastic capabilities duly lost to dear mother nature

Sure, we are birds of the very same feather

but there certainly is no need to peck as we flock together

History has several fiery examples at a large scale

Subjugation has been a lesson very hard to learn

Consider this an opportune moment to use a chute to bale

Those things that hurt us- they are better left to burn

All these years have gone by with little logic

The time is high to release some magic

Note: This talks about how customs that are considered unbreakable by the current generation are most probably an elaborate play by someone in our culture's history; probably in order to impose themselves on others around. The only person that we have control on is ourselves (as an individual), and for us to reach our maximum potential and to actually make a difference, we need to work only on our selves and hence get the best out of us.

Swim to String

Few thoughts have been a swimming

in my mind for the past year or so

I want to do some swimming

but dreaded COVID has a mind of its own

Now there is surely a lull

and I can't allow these plans to go to null

No! I cannot believe it has happened

one fell swoop and all is lost

This was something unimagined

to COVID I have become an unexpected host

That wish of mine had been barely afloat

but now I have a pain in my throat

Recover I have from that ghastly malaise

weeks of my life lost in inhalation

Realization came to me when I was in a daze

swimming is not practical for a duration

then what do I do to pass my time?

maybe play a guitar string a twang at a time?

I still am sitting by the pool

my hand hits a rhythm as a rule

With no chance of being infected with other's drool

hearing the water lap over the edge acts as fuel

It all has worked for the best, please do note

the previous ordeal is over, and so, now I gloat

Letting Go

It could be part of our incredible human culture 

to hold onto something that we find so dear

Hovering around it like a vicious vulture

Never do we leave it alone only out of fear

Why do we cling on to it with such bonded attachment

when it signifies our own entrapment?

Mundane it is to have become a habit

Stuck are we to it through thick and thin

Comparable it is to a carrot dangling in front of a rabbit

Sickness we experience up to the brim

Guaranteed it is we have many a sneeze

Can we put an end to this please?

Many a fraud make a wealth of money

Magic is amiss in their queasy potion

Advices are abundant, we feel so loony

Saying is simple, but it's a difficult solution

Scythe through the hay, it feels too much trouble

A needle is surely found at the end of this struggle

This feeling we have is of our own creation

realization of which will lead to immediate liberation

Pain will be a companion for a variable duration

Enduring this temporarily a cause for celebration

Being in the present, we no longer feel hollow

Incredible joy surfaces at the point of letting go

The comforting discomfort

 A feeling so familiar

reminiscent of days gone by

It leans towards a thriller

Anguish forgotten as time has flown by

This could be another day

when my thoughts hold me in sway

Has it been a few years or a decade

when I last had this pleasure?

This situation could be a dangerous grenade

that explodes for good measure

then why do I feel so much traction

when bells signal a negative reaction?

It is my beloved, I hear it's appeal

The thoughts clearly a wonderful bait

It's recognizable, I want it for real

miss this chance, it's too long to wait

Time has been lost for us lover's estranged,

pay heed to my instinct, it's so deranged

I feel drawn towards it, be it night or day

Therefore ensnared in it's wily jail

Tempted towards it, I think I could be happy today

tune in to my mind, it is a lovely fail

persuaded by it, I have made an infraction

embraced am I in this fatal attraction

Note: Read it again? Some background about this poem. It talks about one repeating one's mistakes knowing that good will not come out of it, only because one is comfortable with it.

The ache

This could possibly be a thought to complete

or an excuse for writing's sake

but before I submit myself to defeat

It's a chance that I prefer to take

I have long been deep in thought

and many a mental war I have fought

I've had this feeling before

my memories don't lie, they serve me right

There have been many a fantastic lore

and with a cry, they shed some light

No worries, this is no fancy bake

for I definitely feel an odd little ache

This pain is often underrated,

and castaway into the outer shores

This pang is occasionally dramatized

and celebrated with almighty roars

It can be said with some conviction

that this is life's greatest contradiction

I've lived this torment before

if only I could hark back to the solution

a eureka moment from my mind store

could lead to a faster resolution

Tired I am, this is too much to take

How to rid myself of this giant ache?

This call from nature (submitted to farmer-ish: https://farmerish.net/)

 The day had begun with infinite time

With lots of gaps to be filled,

I have finished watching a movie on crime

It was just another opportunity to be billed

I feel so cold, temperature is only a number

Confuse yourself not, it is close to summer

There is a wonderous sight to behold

when I look out my porch window

of colors so vibrant and certainly bold

all the time basking in the sun's shadow

These gaps of emptiness get pushed to future

It's difficult to resist this call from nature

The leaves are green, the sky so blue

There are many a thing that my eyes can feast

Radiant in the sun's beautiful golden hue

the hungry trees stretch themselves due east

There is rarely a moment of lull outside

Wonder of wonders, I feel still inside

The movement is subtle, there is no trace

I tarry not and I leave with haste

Having waited long for this loving embrace

There is no longer a second for me to waste

I run outside like a young wee schooler

I only subsist through this call from nature

I hope she hears

 I need my phone to make call

There is someone out there

So, I rush down the hall

There is so much I want to share

I hope to get her when she has a slot,

because with her work she is busy a lot

I need my phone, oh! I see it there

Still seated on the sofa, lest I forget

A glimpse of it; I race like a hare

This took too long, I feel regret

She might be busy is one of my fears

But if she is away, I hope she hears

I have my phone, in my hand

unlocking it is not great mystery

I cuddle it like it is a top notch brand

Smile not, for we have some history

No one would have thought such a plot

Because with her work, she is busy alot

Without further ado, I dial her number

the ring does a sound like a snail

The time is high to wake from slumber

I pray she picks up before voicemail

It has been ringing a while, the end nears

If she is away, I hope she hears

Note: This is a generic poem that can hold true for anyone. I have used the word "she" rather than "he/she/they" as it is easier to use a singular term, but there is no singular term to cover men and women that I can think of

Over the Net

 My mouth is dry and my lips are parched,

There is some light but it’s close to dark

Towards the end of the court, I march

I turn around when I reach my mark

The wind is out of my control

My only hope is that I will rock and roll

 

Across the court, I see a couple of large figures loom

That is where my opposition lurk

Scheming and plotting my very doom

God I wish I could wipe their smirks

Majestic a threat when the game is singles

Twice over it becomes as we play doubles

 

There is complete silence as I shout the score

So great the tension that has now built

Time to bring my focus to the fore

My hold on the racket resembles a sword hilt

No thought enters of something amiss

Getting this point my only wish

 

I toss the ball up, it begins my final act

My racket goes up, there sounds a twang

As my implement and the ball make contact

All they hear is a big loud bang

They miss the projectile, that's a point I get

A shot so fine, it was decided once the ball went over the net

Note: While I personally do not have this feeling of competitiveness when playing tennis, but it was easy to harness this feeling from my younger days