27 February 2007

Light

I feel light, like I am high on stuff
Not that I would really know anyway
But if I would I think be this is how it would
Like it's a beginning to a brand new day
It seems all nice and bright
Like all I had to say is said
And so today is a new open gate
Into a place known unknown
I am not on that side yet
But I can see it is bright
There is color and it looks like fun
And all this when it is still night :)

23 February 2007

Friday Afternoon

Its Friday afternoon
I am at my desk
I don’t wanna work
I do try my best

Its starting to happen
The Friday afternoon
The excitement is in the air
You see, Friday is a boon

Tip tap tip tap tap tip tip tip tap
Can you define the sound of a key?
Not the one that rings a note
But the one with which you write you see
The speed is faster
The rhythm clear
The tiny typing clatter
From far and near
Why does everything sound louder?
And like music to my ear?

Ring ring goes another phone
‘Hello’ was all the other one said before
There goes Joan’s cell phone
Or was that the one we heard before?
‘Oh Yeah’ ‘Tonite ‘ ‘ meet you there’
‘Tomorrow cant make it’ ‘ cant fit it anywhere’
‘Its your fault man’ ‘I wont argue today’
‘Will you make it to the game’ ‘It is still Friday’
I hear responses, some related, some are not
People have plans, some happen, some may not..
But that aint gonna be the reason, to spoil today
After all its still Friday, is it not?

Everyone has work to do
But the passages get noisier too
It is 3 o clock already now
‘hey! Hello!! Keep it down’
‘Its Friday’ Someone’s screamed back
‘And I, am your boss and I say you work
and Shut up if you wanna come back!!’
Everything is a little calmer
Only for a while to listen to power

Oh! There’s a game on Sunday that’s why the din
It has started to sound like rocks in a tin
Is it that movie that’s gonna release today
Or is it that nominated but lost, that play
The weather is cold, its gonna snow tomorrow
But that aint gonna cause anyone any sorrow.

Its endearing this noise, this day
Like its relieving people from pain
I love my work, I really do
But then Who can deny …
… Friday is weekend past afternoon

22 February 2007

Once in a while

Once in a while
I pick up a pen
Sit down in style
To write a poem

And think about what
I really want to write
So many words just to tell
Only what I just thought

I come up with topics
A whole wide range
Life and death
Poverty and pain
Of joy and sorrow
And of the socially insane
Of love that is lost
Or that’s in what we gain...
Of everyday’s multitude
Of thoughts in the memory lane

Of things that matter
And words insignificant
Of endless chatter
And silence vacant

And on and on I think about
So many things I want to write about
And yet somehow
My conviction I doubt

Am I writing to speak my mind?
Am I writing to please a friend?
Am I writing coz I want to write?
Or because I have nothing to write?
Do I have to try and kill time?
Or is this a tradition I want to set?
Am I thinking too much about me?
Or is it just a feeling I often get?

Now that I have said all this
Do I really want to write some more?
I write coz I can’t stop myself
I have tried to stop, to stop before...
But I have to write and I really want to
To make sense or maybe it is not to
Whatever it really means
I am trying to know
If it does or not make sense
I don’t want to stop… I know...
….Feb 22 2007