JUST ANOTHER FACE IN THE CROWD

He is pushed aside by a crowd
running to catch a glimpse of a movie star;
as he gets to his feet,
he promises himself that, one day, he too will go far;
he thinks of that day, when,
by his achievements, they will all be wowed,
a day when he is no longer
just another face in the crowd.

The star gets out of his black limousine,
he looks jaded and weak;
a hundred people surround him
and scream his name out loud,
they want to touch him,
get close to him, hear him speak,
but he would rather be someplace else,
somewhere, where he is just another face in the crowd.

© Sharan Rao 2011
Artwork by smashmethod, deviantart.com

SMILES

Every time a smiling face I see,
I wonder what that smile is telling me.

For some smile to deride,
while others smile to hide,
and many a smile looks like a frown,
reluctantly turned upside-down.

Some seem to smile,
every once in a while,
for apparently no reason at all;
others draw back their curtains,
but remain hidden behind a wall.

Some use it beautifully, to say
what words can’t.
Others use it  in a way,
that gets them what they want.

But still, a smile is a pleasant thing,
and best of all, it’s free;
so the next time you come along,
do bring one for me. 🙂

Artwork © ~Bleach—Lover, deviantart.com

THE POET

“Goodness gracious me!
Are you writing poetry?”

“Yes ma’am, I am. I enjoy it, I really do,
Every now and then, writing a line or two.”

“Another poet! Oh dear! The world will be ruined, I fear.
But of all places, why are you writing here?”

“I’m just awaiting my turn, I have the flu;
So tell me, what’s ailing you?”

“My mind’s in a spin and I have an aching head,
And it’s all because of some poems I read.
You poets are wicked, you really are,
Your poetry seems so simple from afar,
But if one actually tries to interpret what you’ve said,
The only reward is an aching head!”

“I’m so sorry to hear that; if you’d like, I can explain
The art of reading poetry without feeling any pain.
See, if you understand the entire poem, then that’s very good;
You’ve actually done better than the poet thought you would.

But if you understand only parts, or nothing at all,
Don’t fret or cry, or bang your head against the wall.
If it makes no sense to you, it’s probably written for another,
So to critically inspect, dissect or bisect it, don’t bother,
Just treat it like mail which you’ve opened by accident;
For a poem will always make sense to those for whom it is meant.”

The lady sighed, and rubbed her head,
“I’ll think about what you’ve told me,” she said,
“But then, I wonder where THAT POET must be,
Who writes poems that are meant for me!”

EVERYTHING YOU’VE WANTED

When you let go,
when your mind is free,
when your ego is subdued
and there is no ‘me’;

you find
that everything
you really ever sought,
that shaped every desire
and every thought,
that convinced you to buy
everything you ever bought,
was an exercise in futility
and worth naught;

for everything that you’ve wanted deep down inside,
has always been there, just there,
deep down inside.

Artwork by TrollGirl @ deviantART
http://trollgirl.deviantart.com/

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

Wait, my friend! Slow down, don’t run so fast;
Can’t you see that the quickest ones are coming in last?
Sit down awhile, keep your worries aside,
And come with me on this merry ride.

Watch them, moving about as though in a trance,
Treading the same circular path again and again,
What comes their way by design or chance,
Is more often than not treated with disdain.

A businessman just kicked away a diamond that lay
In his way, he was too busy screaming on his phone;
An angry boy picked it up and flung it miles away,
Thinking it to be just another ordinary stone.

A scholar passed this way sometime back,
Looking for something he’d already found,
“If only I could remember where”, he said,
As he frantically searched the ground.

See that young woman, sitting there dejected,
In the middle of that little river of tears?
A young man is standing nearby with a lifeboat,
If only she would open her eyes and ears.

That man, must catch a bus to get on a train to board a plane;
No wonder then that he seems to be going a little insane.
A thief has just managed to nick a pretty looking purse,
But the cops have seen him at it; his day’s only going to get worse.

For this is the circle of life, my friend,
A bittersweet journey with no start or end;
It cannot be explained by the mind’s logic or the intuition of the heart,
For the faster you move, the faster you’ll come back to the start.

But this mystery has to be lived to be understood,
So get back on your saddle and put on your hood,
And I’m sure you’ll enjoy this novel ride;
Just, once in awhile, leave the circle and step outside.