A manager's role
in the process
out of the blue
didn't know
it would come to me
so soon.

A manager's role
in brief how it looks
to me...

Manage yourself
sort out time,
work
and in-between
manage other people
along with solving problems
of mine as well as others.

A character it is,
to carry out & lead
and figuring out
how it is supposed to be!

Recently in a process of becoming a manager,
leading my team in progress. Its too hard to focus on my work
as well as sorting out time and other's works.
Not an easy Job at all when I have just a just 1 year of experience.

These days too busy to even focus on my poetry & to read other's poetry as well. I wish I could get some time out for myself & all of you but hoping that you will understand my current responsibilities which I need to show.

What you want
Isn't necessarily
What you need.
Maybe,
She's just your Inspiration?
What you need
Is to feel
Valued and Appreciated.

Too many thoughts can drag you down,
Smiling is allowed,
Hard times can test your faith,
Oh, melodrama of the grace,
The world is, indeed a stage,
As a famous bard did say,
But thoughts have a positive role,
Solutions appear to guys and dolls,
So, plebs, sit down and have a rest,
Positive ideas are creation's best!

Feedback welcome.

Do not aspire to be a ramp model,
Strive to be the perfect role model.

Self-inspired

My HP Poem #1389
©Atul Kaushal
Erin Nicole Jan 18

You play the role of a happy person
with a smile across your face.
But deep inside it hurts
And your crying out for help.

Craig Ha Jan 1

Her spirit of adventure
Spurred her on.
Single-minded,
She was an island of fire.

She strode,
Purposeful and strong.
Once a learned gait,
Became her trademark.

She was admired,
She was desired,
She raised her head high.
While her supine neck,
Kept a level head
On her shoulders.

Concerned with
The care of others
But unencumbered with
The trivialities of
Romantic love.

A strong woman,
My formidable mother.

saranade Aug 2014

You, I, polymorphously perverse
                         your hand covers my mouth, voices adverse
            like rape, but it is in reverse. Submit and admit...
                    perverse
I want to beg, plead, submerse and disburse
                         I burst silence for a cursed thirst
             first, be more covert, I'd prefer if we don't
                                     converse
I'll sing you your pleasure without
            a
               single
                         verse.

listen close.
The Lonely Bard Oct 2016

I am me,
And she's my role,
So she's as excellent as me myself,
But she's beautiful,
I am not.


Her poses possess a demeanour,
And she says a lot,
Silently,
But I listen to it all,
She just wonders how do I know.


She is now my bestest friend ever,
And of course the most gorgeous,
Can not be any easier to conclude,
Because she is simply a class apart,
She is a real motivator & practical.

Both Bhumika & I have our equation straight as the best of friends.
She is such a deserving young woman who exudes an infectious enthusiasm to achieve something.
I don't feel shy in saying that seeing her focus I feel encouraged to follow my career as well.

She has changed a lot and improvement is visible in her original poetry.

HP Poem #1175
©Atul Kaushal
Devin Ortiz Sep 2016

Dear Colin

What an inspiration
A role model
See I know how you feel
I'm like you
Mixed race, perspectives of two

From a young age
And to this day I'm ashamed
I hated my blackness
I saw what the world offered them
So I didn't want part of it

And I saw my people
Crying out with no one to listen
So I used my voice
To scream there message loud

They'll call you a traitor
They say it's disrespect
But to be more mad of an anthem
than lives that are lost.
Lives these soldiers fight for
Lives these soldiers die for

You are my hero Kaep
You saved me.
The light in a dark world
Where hope evades the privilege
of a mulatto kid, with white parents

And hope burns in darkness
It shines it's light strong
10 years from now people
who so hated this movement
Will understand
This was the time
You led the rebellion
Against injustice for all.

Caroline Lee May 2016

the church pew thrasher
I'm stuck somewhere between what they say and what they do
communion cups and inner church affairs
painted faces and sanctified stairs
and though I once was blind I now can never unsee
this place has been a heaven for the rivers of hell that abides in in me
and I crossed all of my fingers
knocked my white knuckles on those pews of holy wood
but I found all was lost that kept me young, kind, and good
I learned quick that things never turn out just like they should
and still I cling to hands raised and a few honest bars
the musing of the man on the microphone and my quiet life on mars
If there were any walls they met my fists
if there were any rough edges they all met my wrists
drunk on the blood of my saviors fallen from grace
unable to understand but still a need to see the savior's face
there is no other explanation
there is no other reason

and you,
you couldn't practice what you preach
you,
you couldn't seek what you couldn't reach
you told me to wait while you went on a head
you didn't die to yourself because you were already dead
I should have known
I should have known I should have known
but still I press on in spite of the hell I was shown
still I reach out for the hem of the throne
still
still.

and I'll never understand how much death I lived through
in a place that boasted life for the pure, holy and true
milk and honey met blood and abomination
innocent eyes and tiny hands lead to the greatest devastation
the betrayal of trust
the bread and the cup tarnished with rust
I'll never understand
but still I reach for the Hand

If there were any walls they met my fists
if there were any rough edges they all met my wrists
drunk on the blood of my saviors fallen from grace
unable to understand but still a want to see the savior's face
there is no other explanation
there is no other reason

and you,
you couldn't practice what you preach
you,
you couldn't seek what you couldn't reach
you told me to wait while you went on a head
you didn't die to yourself because you were already dead
I should have known
I should have known I should have known
but still I press on in spite of the hell I was shown
still I reach out for the hem of the throne
still
still.

So I sing to the kid in me that never grew up
the once who's still tripping under the weight of that cup
be still
be still
be still
it was never his will
be still
be still
be still
it isn't your fault, it isn't your crime
don't let it consume you
don't let it poison your mind
just
be still

and you,
you couldn't practice what you preach
you,
you couldn't seek what you couldn't reach
you told me to wait while you went on a head
you didn't die to yourself because you were already dead
I should have known
I should have known I should have known
but still I press on in spite of the hell I was shown
still I reach out for the hem of the throne
still
still.

Rough draft of a song I wrote this morning. I feel like it's taken a life time to work up the courage to let myself write about this but I finally am. If you're heart was broken by role models in places that were supposed to be good and true, you are not alone. It isn't your fault for trusting. It isn't your fault for wanting something to be good.
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