The Shackles Of Habit.

He is a young man having the normalcy of most of his contemporaries with no claim to any real talent, not even one to boast of. But he is known, very well known for just one thing. One could tell this by just an encounter with him. Unfortunately, this creates impressions about him that even the devil would hate, so he is determined to root this habit out and reduce it to embers.

This, he knows is going to be a battle. If for no reason at all, his ignorance was immune to the reality that huge, old trees have roots that creep deep into the belly of the ground. This habit he intends to break is an age old tree that has been nursed by nature himself. But if he must succeed at life and have at least one good thing said about him, then he must be willing to bend his back and endure the sun’s heat.

Friends have made mockery of him. Teachers have been rude to him. People in authority have denied him opportunities. Employers have threatened firing him. He has lost valuable things and chances, been in the wrong places at the wrong times. Some people he looks up to have been disappointed in him, some making it plain in words and others with painful stare.
Hurt and disappointment in self, attempts and discouragement, regret and lack of enthusiasm towards life.

This habit, together with all that accompanies it was growing with him and he hated it. Things had to change. He was becoming a man, but what kind of man?

This is his story!

RIGHT TO WRITE.

I have always known that I have a right

to write.

But, sometimes what is left

of me after thinking it through is a pen and an empty paper on my left.

If I write about life,

they say I have not seen enough of it.

They remind me;

“where your feet has not reached, let your mouth not run ahead.”

When memories of heartbreak knock at my ink

and I look at the lady’s future without blink,

they whisper in deafening silence

“Heartbreak is for the weak”

Then I write about what God is

-The very emotion that rendered Adam poetic-

Oh! That? “It is blind”, they say.

Are we all not, at a point in our lives?

This feeling is not right, I know.

But if I do not write, I alone suffer the blow.

So my thoughts and questions about those,

I make my sole duty to pose.

© POLO

STUDENTS OF LIFE

We are students.

All of us.

Not of prestigious institutions,

but of this battlefield called life.

We learn, we fail.

For greater things we yearn. Some of which we gain.

Though we sweat and tire for tomorrow,

what it will bring, nobody knows.

Life blurs your vision,

and mocks your mission.

You are thrown and deserted on this desert,

how you find an oasis is entirely up to you.

We learn, we fail.

For greater things we yearn. Some of which we gain.

Though we sweat and tire for tomorrow,

what it will bring, does anybody know?

The lights go out on you in the dead of the night.

And you can barely find your hand’s way to your nose.

Life is field of thorns, not a bed or rose.

Be a warrior. A warrior of life.

We fall, we rise.

The floor does not have our prize.

Though the journey is long,

we know there is a better place where we belong.

Life will teach you what matters.

It will show you who matters.

And if you really matter to someone,

Life will reveal it.

Is life still how you make it?

Does the axiom still hold?

Sometimes, you are what life makes you.

When you fall, rise. Life is expensive, pay the price.

When we fall, we shall rise.

Up ahead is our prize.

Though our feet are weak and weary,

We journey on, for soon comes our time of merry.

© POLO.

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Silent Goodbye

It was one of those days,
with stressful events that typified his routine.
He had so much on his mind,
But just one took prominence.

And it was her…
This one to his heart so dear.
But with prevailing circumstances inspiring fear,
He felt his end with her quite near.

Their conversations played in his head.
With each word from her, he bled.
Her voice was soothing, no doubt.
Just that his heart and mind were in a bloody bout

“Something must kill a man”,
she would say.
And if someone was to ensure it, she would be the one
“I’m not a murderer” she would playfully claim

Playful conversations with her arose his spirit.
One of the few people who gave his life true meaning.
Here he was, so loved for who he really is and isn’t
The first sensation of its kind, and she made it happen.

So willing was he to be the graceful “Songs of Solomon” doe,
with his heart as an ally.
But with time and circumstances as foe,
He felt alone in that steep, endless valley.

In the garden of his heart,
he nursed hope
that she was going to come around.
However far she was gone, she was going to come back.

But she never returned.
And that was forever.

Forever never after.

(C) POLO 19

Vela Damus

The ship needs repair,
and the luggage is heavy.
True, the journey is long and
uncertain,

look up, take a deep breath and say,
Vela Damus.

The skies are pregnant
and the storm promises to go hard.
The waves rage in anger and terror,
and a journey over the deep expanse of life is scary.

But look straight ahead, face the wind and storm,
And say ‘Vela Damus’.

What has the raging waves
and frightening storm have in store?
We don’t know,
But, Vela Damus.

We will set sail,
and if the need arises,
we will jettison.
Whatever be the case,

Vela Damus.

-POLO

Beautiful Human Garden.

Everyone’s life is a garden.
And if we haven’t been
Somewhere before, the least we can do
Is to show regard for that place.

If we haven’t been in and out
Of someone’s life,
We have no licence to judge them.
Caring for a garden is work.

Some gardens look so good miles away.
It takes getting in to be sure.
And if you don’t like what you see,
Help make it what you’d have wished.

Others look so uncared for.
Distance can distort a good view,
And a closer look could do a lot of good.
Get in there, and you’ll see what beauty it possesses.

If you can’t make it any better,
Leave it the same way you met it…

The people we meet everyday are like gardens.

Some of them come across as the “best.”
But deep inside, there’s a mess.
Let’s help them, however possible.
May we not break their spirits…

Like other gardens,
Some people appear needy of attention and care.
But no! They’re a garden of flowers of every kind.
That’s where you find even the rarest kind of fruits.

If we can’t maintain them,
May we not deplete the goodies in the people.
Someone else might have a need for it.
Let’s make this world a beautiful jungle

With beautiful gardens of humans.

(C) POLO 2020