Poetic and Prosaic Writeups

  The Modern Monster   At times, I become scared; I find my shadow a ghost; Modernity has indeed dared Too much due to its boast.   I fail to recognise The face in the mirror; I fail to patronise Myself, full of horror.   Wherever I put my glance, I find all things banal; Lunacy seems to dance, Throwing muck from the canal.   Life’s become full of decay; In fact, it’s growing on and on; Nights seem brighter than a day; All morality has gone, aye, gone.   Whenever I become nostalgic, The rugged reality hurts even more; I do feel, find life tragic And become wounded and full of gore.   The wind has been full, too full, Full of venom everywhere; The social greyhounds drool, yes, drool; Peace becomes too much rare.   Ethics have departed long ago; And we applaud sometimes! How? This life is a truly tragic show That is going on so well now.   How can we become so devoid? T...

  There must be light; There ought to be shade; Amidst life’s every fight, We’re hurt with life’s blade.   We fall into the ditch of despair; Still, this life goes on and on; Weal and woe is nothing rare; There must be shower and the sun.   It’s too tough to become a stoic; We oscillate like a pendulum; A daredevil is not heroic; A timid has to pay every sum.   There must be loss; There ought to be gain; Still, trust not in gloss; Else, it might always rain.   Being made of flesh and blood, We endeavour to defy destiny; It can bring drought, can bring flood; Fortune rules his tyranny.   We, sometimes, get too weary; We, sometimes, give up hope; Well, life must be dreary; We must learn how to cope.   Who can foretell our future? We need to become calm; This society is a vulture; This life feels too humdrum.   How to add some variety? We need some spices, for sure; There is sa...