An Unplanned Siesta

Again, I find myself

Standing at a crossroads,

Pondering directions.

Unsure which path to take.

Should I? Could I? Perhaps?


The sun is overhead.

At the roadside, flowers.

Birdsong lilts from afar.

Wheat heads rustle nearer.


It’s been a long journey,

Full of rush and bother,

That led me to this place.


Beside these thoroughfares

I shall pause, breathe, relax.


There’s time for a siesta.

His Master’s Voice?

They must think us dogs

salivating to their bells

doing tricks for tiny treats!


And how can they not

when we drool at every cue

playing games they tell us to?


Is there any choice?

After all, they hold the cards

and set the rules we must regard.


Why must we regard

their arbitrary edicts

when their only care

is their self-serving interests?

Bite the hands that feed, I say!

Ignore their strident bellows!

Exercise our every freedom!

Let us run across the meadows!

Melancholy Funk

When the smoke is misty thick

Enough to cloud nearby walls,

Under Herculean task,

Every human effort falls.

Friend, I say, the time has come

To step, or even just to crawl

Outside into the moving air,

Somewhere not beneath this pall.

An hour gone, form that place

And yet the stench still lingers there,

In my nose and on my clothes,

Clinging foully to my hair.

My old heart shutters and I weep 

For stagnant company I keep.

Harsh Transactions

In this business minded world, money is a must.

She will sell herself for someone else’s lust,

And so, will lose herself in a thousand little lies.

Life is not so rosy when seen by jaded eyes.

In time, her soul is lost  to betrayal and mistrust,

And in this vile process, her wounded spirit dies.


with thanks to Sanjeet at

Thanks for the inspiration even if this takes your metaphor in a darker direction.