Memories Golden

No regrets, no complaints,
No looking back,
Only memories to
Keep me company
As I slowly move
Through my
Remaining days.

Every dawn
A new beginning,
Every sunset,
Gentle reminder
That final destination
Is not that far .

And at last
I am free to choose
Memories golden
That light
My path.

Vagabond (লক্ষ্যবিহীন পথিক)

I wrote this poem on Christmas Eve morning while having my breakfast. Everybody else was still enjoying their Saturday morning nap.  I wrote the poem first in my mother tongue, Assamese (Axomiya) , and then translated to English.  Posting both versions here.


 

লক্ষ্যবিহীন পথিক

নাই কোনো অভিযোগ
নাই কোনো অভিলাষ
নকৰো হাবিয়াস
ঘাত প্ৰতিঘাত
ভাল আৰু বেয়াৰ সংঘাত
জীৱনৰ নাই কোনো হাত
হেৰাই যোৱা অতিত
অনাগত ভৱিষ্যত
সকলোতে মোৰেই হাতৰ ছাপ
অনাহকত জীৱনক কৰো দায়বদ্ধ
জীৱন নিজৰ পথত
বাট হেৰুওৱা
লক্ষ্যবিহীন পথিক মই

Vagabond

No complaints
No expectations
Sans desire
Bumps and bruises
Constant struggle between
Good and evil
Life has no hand
On past long lost
Nor on coming future
Everywhere I look
See my imprint
Life not responsible
For anything
Life on its own path
I
An aimless vegabond

It’s Party Time, Corporate Ladder and Saturday Six Minute Challenge

Yesterday, after a long time, I had some free moments to enjoy reading posts on my reader at leisure. It is becoming a luxury for me nowadays. I decided to work from home yesterday,not that I was not working but the freedom from two hours of round trip commute and associated tiredness offered me the opportunity to indulge.   As usual, Murphy’s Law did work ( not sure who that Irishman was) and things that could go wrong went wrong at work on a Friday afternoon keeping me busy on phone and by e-mails.  But I am digressing, it has no relevance to this story.  Ah! the freedom of working in one’s pajamas. Wonderful indeed.  I immediately realized how much I was missing out. One has to do what has to be done. So no complaints and no regrets. I also ended up posting few of my own poems. All those activities, of course, resulted in going to bed late at night.

Getting up late on a Saturday morning, first post I saw was “It’s a Party“.  With those pictures of cake and coffee, my sleep deprived mind conjured up a vision of evite to a birthday party.  Little did I realize that Jackie was offering only zero calorie foods and beverages at the party.  However, there is ample opportunity to mix and mingle and make new friends.  So do go ahead, visit and make friends.

One of the new friends I made,  Amruta, had a beautiful poem titled Corporate Ladder, a new version of the nursery rhyme, Ten in the Bed, on her site.  I like her spin on the nursery rhyme and could not desist making a comment.  Sharing with you all my comment to Amruta’s post as my contribution to Kristi’s Saturday Six Minute Challenge.

View From The Top 

It’s always lonely at the top
When you fall down
You break your neck
Higher you rise
Mightier is the fall
And oh my,
What a wreck
Do you make
But
.
.
.
.
The view must be
Beautiful from the top
So what the heck !

Have a beautiful weekend, dear readers.

Weeds

Weeds we are, hardiest children of nature, merrily we strive
Given the slightest opportunity, we grow and thrive
Do not ask for more, we take what we have and live
No TLC, do not care, we know we can always survive

No complaints about life, none at all
We make our own place in this world
We put down our roots strong and sound
Summer, drought, rain or snow, do not count

Create our own opportunity, clinging to life
Lie dormant and hidden when time is tough
Stone and concrete, lawns and roads alike
When the time comes, we come alive

Tormented we are by humans and animals alike
Torn out of our roots and thrown aside
Gardens of non-native plants thirsty for water
Even when sprayed with weeds be gone, we do not bother

Our love for our native land is strong
Nature’s children, we haven’t done anything wrong
Many a hidden curative quality do we have
To cure exotic diseases of the human race

Weeds we are, hardy, strong and sure
Many of us propagate by spores
Do not confuse us with the one you plant
We are not the weed that you smoke and rant


Week 11 of My Fifty Two Weeks Journey with “W”

Write Anything Wednesday 4-13-2016