usually I write a poem
off the bat
but alas to-day
I couldn't do that

none of the word combinations
I had in mind
would gel like
a twining bind

inspiration eluded
the nib of my quill
its ink
wouldn't freely spill

as a consequence
the page is short of a verse
none came along
to fill its purse

in the morrow
a poem might get writ
that's if I can get
hold of it

but for to-day
I'm bereft of a stanza
which would have been
a great bonanza

(I)
Her hour upon the stage,
She struts and frets.
Applause, admiration
Behind a mask to reflect.

In moments of true emotion,
Behind closed doors,
The mask would slip off
And shatter on the floor.

(II)
As years went by
And her heart withered,
She’d rather keep the mask on.
Revealing her true-self she feared

So secure behind the guise
So full of her-assumed-self.
She diffused into the mask
And the mask into herself.

(III)
Two eyes in the crowd
Shone apart from the rest.
They were there for the she,
She had always neglect.

While the crowds cheered on,
In those eyes at her affixed,
For a few flickering seconds
Her true self she glimpsed.

By the mirror she stood.
Hand clasped to her face,
In futile agony,
This mask to efface.

(IV)
“A mask may be adamant.
It may cover the face whole
But it can never drape
Those windows to the soul.”

“It will be difficult to search
The true-self long concealed.
Let these drape-less windows
The path reveal.”

“Look deep in mine eyes,” said he.

Sleep beckons.
I could close my eyes and call it a day.
Lie down and die – maybe dream
Of all that was unaccomplished.

But with dreams there comes no guarantee.
Compensation for dissatisfaction?
Rebuke for procrastination?
There might be none,
Or some that I might not even remember.

Life is meaningless.
We are but sparks: destined to fade away.
This isn't a game, there are no rules.
No prosecution for any infringement.

I choose to while away at a make believe game
With make believe rules.
But I play fair,
Lest I should be judged by me.

I granted myself the liberty
Imparting meaning to my existence.
Meticulously building a façade.
Filling the void that I was born into.

One reckless step and it might all collapse-
Life, rules, beliefs-
A heap of nothingness at square one.
This choice-
The liberator from the drudgery of existence-
Is the one that binds me.

So I force myself to stay awake
For a few more hours each night.
Trying to get the blocks in place.
Convincing myself that what lies ahead is all pleasure.

Will it be reward enough
For all that I have suffered and lost
At my own game?