World is full of holes and thorns
my moves of gain get stumbling blocks
I fight umpteen times
to be happy with part success.

Gray forces put life at stake
rising prices choke my breath
love is volatile.
I'll make this world a cozy place.

To get the trust of human souls
I've to open sluice gates,
chop off undercurrent moves,
develop equally 'humane traits'.

My Church Father lent an ear to the plan
asked to change myself rather than the world
leaders of a dozen field
offered the same feed in different bowls.

I let the world move happily,
bear the burden of Sisyphus,
curse my luck for all the sweats
and pray, and pray, and pray to God.

11th October, 2017.

My grandpa listened to 'rpm' records
closed his eyes
and bathed in the shower of music.

My mom took us to concerts,
played cassettes in tape recorders
and the tunes paved our way to growth.

My children are used to view music
silent imagination of old days lose trail,
baton of flight of fantasy rests on choreographers.

9th October, 2017.

Some science and commerce words are cut
to use 'co' in shortcut.
The intelligent way of stamping
saves the labor of writing.

Company loses its 'mpany'
and 'C0' never looks funny.
Another 'Co' presents color of black berry
and 'Cobalt' smiles in paint and jewelry.

The logic of chemistry can guide
to understand CO as Carbon Monoxide.

5th October, 2017.

A pair of hazel eyes look at me.
Your 'bandana' runs up to forehead,
a scarf covers nose, chin and below,
the pinky complexion of your cheeks
lures me to paint you as a lovely maid.

There is no invitation in your eyes.
The fathomless look has ocean depth,
perhaps you read me with a X Ray beam
keeping yourself beyond my  comprehension,
like prima donna of my dreams.

Like a true lover I want to know more of you,
like a fearful citizen I peep to judge your intention
like an art lover I adore you as a fine piece of art.
Who are you and what are you?
Alas! You are million pixels away from me.

28th September, 2017.

Papa, mom and me,
a happy family,
we live in a poultry.

Papa is called 'Fick'.
Mom's nature suites 'Meek'.
I'm simply a 'Chick'

Owner increased birds
came attendants, guards.
Our lives hang on 'Silver Standards'.

Our mothers teach,
'In heaven we reach
through roast, sandwich'.

21st September, 2017.

Here hares wait quietly till drizzle stops atop hills, bright light peeps rabitually habitually wolves hooves trot brought again sound of cloud and air clash.
Flash
Then again sun and fun return, hares en- mass dare and scare away wolves.
Crazy Jerrys are chasing, facing warm Toms from yesterday to today.

(Poem in ***** Form, i.e in a new poetic form. Here most adjacent words rhyme. The theme is funny, bizarre.).

4th September, 2017.

20th Century dawn.
Typhus Virus took human shape,
was named 'Typhoid Mary',
infected and killed many.
Perhaps deadly microbes believe like her,
'We are harmless'.

1st September,2017.