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Àŧùl Nov 2
I
Did
Realise
In Time,
To succeed
And my dad
Guided me to
The epitome of
Worldly success.
Now I'm a beacon,
For you and others,
In this complete fray.
You have my example,
I realised that I have to,
Without procrastinating,
Put efforts for success too,
And for a lifestyle achieving,
I practised writing mock tests,
Not any more novels, none bro,
For I realised that I'm mi'l class.
The Indian mi'l class put efforts,
Without these, there's no bun,
So, I solved mock tests daily,
I didn't shy away and run,
Put my efforts regularly,
You too need just study.

No legislator will think of you,
For you come from the mi'l class,
And from the gen'l cat'ry too.
My HP Poem #2022
©Atul Kaushal

Meta AI's opinion:
"The Flame of Realisation" inspires with its message of perseverance and hard work.

Key takeaways:

1. Personal growth: Overcoming procrastination, realizing potential.
2. Fatherly guidance: Valuing parental support.
3. Success through effort: Emphasizing daily practice (mock tests).
4. Middle-class pride: Recognizing the importance of hard work.
5. Social context: Addressing societal expectations, legislation.

Poetic devices:

1. Metaphor (Flame of Realisation)
2. Alliteration (mi'l class, gen'l cat'ry)
3. Repetition (I realised)
4. Rhyme

Themes:

1. Self-improvement
2. Family influence
3. Perseverance
4. Social awareness

Your poem encourages readers to:

1. Take responsibility for success
2. Value hard work
3. Overcome procrastination

Inspiring others with your journey!

Would you like to:

1. Discuss overcoming procrastination techniques?
2. Explore the impact of parental guidance?
3. Analyze societal expectations vs. individual goals?
4. Share more poetry or experiences?
Gerry Sykes Nov 1
.                                                  Inch by inch,
                                            cruel word,
                                      indecision,
         ­                       pressure,
                        spin an avalanche
                    around my grubby life,
              cocooned, cold
          my sight
        goes
      black.
A crack, amber light bleeds
into my shrouding chrysalis.
      I struggle,
        tearing silk,
            escaping
                to smell the sun
                      taste its nectar
                            and
                          ­        see
                                        I am
                                              a
              ­                                      butterfly.
Àŧùl Oct 29
Depression can affect you.
When things go against you,
Or they go unexpectedly away,
But don't blow your heart away,
All this is temporary, you know,
When you know, you know,
So, don't cry over things.
However, take care,
If you lose yourself,
You won't know.
It will be known,
To you unknown,
And to the world,
It will be known.
It is the whiskey,
To you, it is risky.
But take care of your liver.
If it fails, after all the abuse,
You wouldn't get your glass,
The Precious Evening Glass.
My HP Poem #2015
©Atul Kaushal
The hulking buildings, sharp and spare,
slow march along the boulevard
through grey foul fumes of city air
as cars give chase on roads of tar —
A single tree stands in the waste,
last stand of nature against our haste
Inspired by the sight of a concrete jungle of a former East German apartment complex with a few forlorn trees in its midst.
MetaVerse Aug 30

        ^         ^
       My kitty
        cat's an                                        
           imp
       ra cti cal                            
    purrrrrrfect
  little dainty fat                    
    little lady cat                                                         .
       who uses                                                                  s
         her litter box while wearing her white sock
                                     

She was
unsinkable,
or so they thought.
Woods fired, engines chugged,
they sailed her West in fair majestic pride
unknowing of a tragic ending, a harrowing recollection.
In a blink of an eye, she collided with a tip of the ice, a thousand lives and more swallowed by angry tides,
cries of mercy resonating, woes fading into the familiar shuttered countenance, one by one.
Debris floating back and forth, a horrifying spectacle of bodies buoyant, breathless,
as salty waters sing a lullaby, consoling souls from a sudden departure.
The Ship of Dreams, The Unsinkable, in all her vainglory
a grand exit on her first and final journey, but not
before a farewell kiss pressed on her lips—
She, in a trance, breath withdrawn,
her limbs weak and weary.
Slowly she plunged
but not before
looking back
one last
time.
This is a calligram I wrote in 2019 with the title "Cautionary Tale." Inspired by the RMS Titanic shipwreck, I renamed the poem with something more befitting to its message.
Àŧùl Jan 9
I really-really-really wanna take you home,
Tonight - tonight - yes, tonight.
You would feel relaxed when you spend the night,
With me in my bed - in my bed.

I really-really-really make a promise to you this evening,
Tonight be unlike any other you'd ever see.
You would feel the joy when you spread your pretty smile,
Watching me sink in my bed - in my coffin.

First I'd kiss into your mind a termination signal,
A signal which is mine.
I promise it'd be painless and clean altogether,
Death comes sooner.

The blanket over us will be our gravestone,
Tonight, yes, you try dying.
Try dying tonight in peace and love,
With me, in my bed - my escape.

I promise to take you away to a realm,
Tonight you'll enjoy dying.
Die kissing the lips of immortality,
With me in my bed - my abode.
After uploading it, I saw that the shape of this poem resembles a coffin! Spooky, eh?

My HP Poem #1958
©Atul Kaushal
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2023
Heavy hangs the head
Crown created with cement
Fragile face fades
Heavy is the head who wears the crown...
Isaace Mar 2023
For the set-foot-on new-found sand,
We set sail from mosaic to mosaic shore—
Our black slave-belly churning, evermore.

In the distance we saw a strange, ominous dome.
So dense it seemed,
As if crafted from molten slick!
As if crfated from an accumulated Earth-spit.
As if fashioned from one complete object.
Clearly crafted and fashioned by Futurity's hand;
He who strove upwards and did not question what He saw as progression.
Futurity: He who would compel me to free my stock of black slaves once we reached this sequestered clump of land,
For these isles seemed no place for men with torn and shackled hands.
For these isles seemed a place where shackled slaves would free themselves and feed on their master's bone strands.
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