We built castles by the shore.
The castles are there no more.
We left town as friends that day.
Life carries each friend away.
We built castles on a cloud.
It hurt when clouds clashed aloud.
We talked of our hopes and dreams.
Life laughs at such things, it seems.
We build castles now with stone.
We try to protect our own.
Old men die each in his tomb.
Man builds since he leaves the womb.
ZardyChess
The Emotionally Intelligent
Rebellious are the patient,
for they act unlike all the rest.
They make no haste in good time spent;
among listeners they are best.
While most just hate to ever wait,
truly patient are very few.
Those who do not ever ‘run late’,
always make time for me and you.
The empaths are truly unique,
while most would just find you a bore.
They listen to you when you speak,
and they understand even more.
Most intel is mere dry logic,
wanting spelling out to make sense.
For empaths EQ does their trick;
knowing the lingo of silence.
Truly precious are those who heard
when all that you said was nothing.
Oh, how we waste many a word
on those who can’t hear what we sing.
For the calm, no doubt, run the show.
If you know them, never let go.
Pramodh Anand Iyer
Gentlemen are too few
Gentlemen are too few
While Most just thump around.
Their Ears are open too,
With empathy profound.
Gentlemen needn’t boast.
You know when you’re with one.
They’re needed more than most;
because of how it’s done.
Wise men are also few
Where most intel is dry.
They know what not to do;
and, don’t abuse the ‘Why’.
Wise men can always tell
the truth from all the noise.
They don’t buy all they sell,
all that ‘knowledge’ for choice.
Intelligent are few.
Most would just hate to think.
They question all what’s ‘True’;
when sheep enjoy hoodwink.
Intelligence is curbed,
because it’s ‘perverse’ too.
Most would be but disturbed,
if it dropped the last shoe.
Men aren’t that many.
Most would avoid all pain.
Trained to slave for money;
‘educated’ in vain.
Men are a dying race;
The modern world, a grave.
Many a pretty face;
truly few are the brave.
Perhaps… we could ‘say grace’
and god will come to save.
Pramodh Anand Iyer
Adult Masks
There’s no adult here,
I assure you this.
We wear masks for fear
of being torn from bliss.
Kids are in cages.
These masks keep us out.
Needn’t fill pages;
none knows who’s about.
No, we’re not adults.
Just kids with grey hair.
We fit into cults,
just for the fresh air.
You see, if they knew,
they’d throw us back in.
Act like we’re adults too,
for to live is sin.
Don’t let anyone know
that we survived school.
With adult masks we go,
escaping each fool.
There is no kid here,
just masks hiding cheer.
Pramodh Anand Iyer
Standing ‘Pretty’
Death
1.
Many men do fear thee,
for we are naught but mortals.
We live in a world as transient beings,
and do naught but what He tells.
A friend of thine, her name is Love,
makes us forget all our fears.
In this illusion, we also forget
that thy arrival slowly nears.
As our loved ones leave us and go,
we curse thee and hate thee.
But, men who’re born must go someday;
This truth ne’er do we see.
His will is thy command;
Death is the only truth of life.
Mortals, ignorant and irrational,
weep, resist, and strive.
Some embrace thee; wise they are!
But, some men attempt to hide,
not realizing that t’is is where
thee await with arms open wide.
Thus I, a mere mortal,
helpless, can ne’er escape thee.
I will embrace His decision,
if so Death will set me free.
But I, a mere mortal,
irrational, fear thy will.
For thy arrival, not welcome,
leaves the most mighty to lay still.
Yet, thee must do as He wills;
Though I fear not for myself,
My dear ones are at thy mercy!
For I, a mortal, can’t challenge thyself.
The Forbidden Fruit – 2
When I received life’s breath
in a thriving garden I was born.
There was never a fear of death
for the roses had not one thorn.
In the image of my Creator was I
to have dominion over land and sky.
I’d consume all that met my eye.
Nothing was poison for me to die.
“This garden is your life.” Said He.
“And this tree has a fruit forbidden.”
The Gardener now smiled at me.
His knowledge to me was hidden.
“Eat it, anyway!” Said the Serpent.
“Why should anything be taboo?”
And I did not see reason to repent.
“He forbids to ensure that you do.”
I ate it anyway, for it was so sweet.
What’s eternity when I’m incomplete?
The Phoenix
1.
When darkness consumes his way,
a hero would rise to face the day!
Reborn is the Bird of Fire!
Alive is his burning desire.
Inspiration is his very song,
whose resolve is ever strong.
“After every fall, I shall return
to rise again, to fly or burn!
Watch me soar with metal wings,
face every gust the storm brings!”
From the ashes of the past,
deep within the shadows cast
is a flame which never dies;
for the Phoenix shall now rise!
Eyes of Wonder
A world so vibrant, hues galore;
anything intrigues the young.
A life of beauty, and splendour;
it matters not how it’s sung.
The little one sees a gigantic world
through eyes of endless wonder.
Tucked in his blanket, he’s curled,
whose peace naught shall hinder.
An innocent smile rests on his face,
as he wanders through sweet dreams.
A treasure you could never replace,
innocence is more than all it seems.
The Phoenix – 2
This cage cannot contain
your magnificent flame.
So burn it all away!
Spread your wings today!
Rise, oh Phoenix, rise!
From the ashes to the skies!
You shall rule them all
and sing your battle call!
Burn, phoenix, burn!
A lesson they shall learn!
This is who you are
beyond every battle scar!
Ω The Equilibrium Of Life Ω 