The only time, the screwdriver slipped in the Creator's hand was when He made man. Every time a hungry one shares his food, God smiles; when he shares what is left, He embraces him and takes him into his fold wondering how this one got it right. That's why good ones leave in haste.
One can be kind from footwear to hat, or cruel. The earth will bear both - one with a smile and the other with a frown.

My list of friends are growing short,
my table mates are disappearing.
Fans I had none then and now the only fan I know is stuck to the ceiling.
I wonder what they saw when they flocked around me and what they missed when they flew away.
I haven't changed but for a few gray hairs on my head, laugh lines as I call them when they adorn my face on other's they are wrinkles.
The intelligence of a five year old the mind of a teen, I've grown in weight and strength otherwise I remain almost the same.
I've tried to change with the changing times but a feeble voice within me whispers though shall not.
Within me I am a happy soul when the world desired great things mine was for an ice cream from the corner store.

On the border stand a few men in shivering cold who have sworn that
not a soul shall cross as long as they stand. You and I live oblivious of this cozy and safe their sacrifice gone unnoticed. At home we have a similar
a farmer and soldier rolled into one
who sees that there is food on the fire
our safety his only concern. As long as alive we notice him not, a stranger to wish once in a while. He is the one we call father. Mother we praise in verse and rhyme yet not a word for him at home and the one on the border. Dear friends of mine remember them say a kind word once in a while they are the heroes brave hearts with hearts of gold.

Mother brings a lot off memories
The first perfume I smelt was hers as I snuggled in her arms.
Years later when Angels needed her more than me I realized that she wore no perfume all her life, what I smelt was her love for me.
Now I know why angels look so beautiful it's because you and many a mother is there to braid their hair just right.

On the dark side of midnight, I lay sleepless
Thoughts of the unknown, and unseen filling my mind
An encounter that morning, was the trigger for this sleeplessness
For a month now during my morning stroll, been seeing two elderly men
also on their morning stroll
they would surely be walking if the weather agreed
Past ten days though, I missed them on my walks
Till this morning
but there was only one of the two,
He had aged in the last ten,
His gait was slow,
shoulders drooping more
than age could cause.
Out of concern, I asked him
And he said,
that his friend of 30 years had left him
without a chance to say goodbye
For a decade now, their morning walk was a ritual they both kept religiously
And now with his friend gone on the final walk of his life,  without a word, the void
was too much  to fill.n
I walked with him the rest of the way, offering nothing but silent company
When the time came to part, he held my hand and smiled,
I could feel his heavy heart, and in the faint smile, I saw some relief
I walked back home happier that I could lend a shoulder
But now, I feel the burden of his loss
Reflected though it is
It's making me sleepless and eager for the break of dawn.

Glorious Past
Let's go for a walk let's walk the talk
Of glorious past.
The present is freaking the future is bleak.
A virus is spreading job's are falling apart.
Governments are failing economy slipping.
Health is a thing off the past.
I hope the quantum theory is true
Of seven life's in different planes
Then at least we can assume six of them are better off.

Life uses all the colors of the rainbow and more.
Darkness and its many shades pass as a medium for this versatile painter.
String off colors starts with love and ends with hope, with a lot of juice in between - the juice of life.
Many relationships pain you to tears, even if one, sheds for you hold on tight.
A few drops of salty dew could be the litmus test to who will be among the four to bear your weight as you prepare to go.

Lockdown a housewife asks what it might be
Staying home going nowhere for a month or so
Oh I've been in that state ten and a score.
Why do people complain its never boring as they say. Washing and the cooking the dishes and the floor only my aching back reminds me it's night.
In school and college I was the star of the stage now my stage is the kitchen and the dining room the smile on satisfied faces I consider reward enough.
Happy with my work satisfied with my state.

If God was your neighbour in a village,
you would have exchanged pleasantries,
would have know by the look in his face whether he had lunch or not. His eyes would have told you if he needed a shoulder to cry. In the city in a flat if he was your neighbour would have met him in the corridor or lift occasionally giving and receiving a meaningless smile. If that's gods story just imagine the rest.

We are asked to be nonjudgmental,
for the failures of others especially the aged. Even when they have wasted their whole life with foolish acts. How are we to blame when they have failed to understand the game. Angered at our positive criticism public turn against us.
This attitude of the crowd spoils the chance of at least one fallen mend his ways. The ladder to survival is steep and long making it difficult to hang on. We trick our mind into believing in fate convincing ourselves with words such as that's his fate non can change.

Candle candle burning bright, in the forest of the night.
Many sin and dine in your light knowing not your sacrifice.
Others shine like the morning star, in the luminosity lent by you.
Without even a word of thanks to you they bask in pseudo glory.
No poet am I, nor singer but not so stone hearted that lines of fire fail to move me.

Many a time in subtle and other ways nature tried to warn us.
Spewing fire from mountain tops flooding the land, water rising in high waves from the ***** of the ocean.
Black plague it sent now a tiny virus.
Not a lesson have we learnt not a line understood.
While building tower of babel, it is said misunderstanding was sown in our midst, to stop us from our task.
We still build tower's that touch the clouds and dig deeper than the deepest valley.
Forgetting that simple living is the best.
Want not more than your hand can hold,
a bed to sleep a roof to protect from the cold, it was ment to be thus.
Greed and false pride got us here forgetting that all we need is 6 feet of space our final resting place.

We think a soldier knows no
fear. How wrong we are it's fear
that keeps him alive. A trained killing machine he is but made of flesh and blood. It's the training and comradeship
that keeps his spirit high. The words cover me works like a spell he forgets
he is mortal. From an ordinary being he becomes a super hero his heart and mind knows only one thing protect the life of his comrade who has stepped into the dark trusting him. Bullets can pierce him pain can make him fall yet his arm and eyes are steady his gun trained eyes scanning for any danger that might befall his friend.

Danger is not at the borders as you
think. The enemy is within hidden in sheep skin the wolf attacks the unsuspecting.
I point out to no religion clan or creed
all are to blame for this deed.
Poisoning young minds with words so sweet a ring of truth in every utterance.
They act out heinous deeds in the name of an unseen God leader and party.
Before ABC's children at a tender age should be taught lessons of empathy, love and that tolerance is not cowardice.
A nation is not a handful of sand or acres of land.
It's people whose hearts beat as one though bodies separate.
Oh God if there be lead my people to this state off ecstasy

A lifetime as a teacher many a IAS, IPS
have gone through his tutelage. The satisfaction of a job well done brings a smile to his withered lips.
He was patient with his flock age has eroded his sense of humor looses his temper at all around.
They wait for him to take his last resting kith and kin alike have no time for him.
One fine morning when the household woke he failed to rise with the sun.
As they prepare him for his final journey by word of mouth a crowd gathers at there front door to pay respect to this grand old man.
The said list of IAS, IPS, Doctors and more are some of them who have come to have a last glimpse of this great soul.
As they watch they wonder whether a gentle smile had replaced the tiny frown
on these lifeless lips.

When someone asks me to write on a topic of his choice I go blank I get writers cramps.
The words the verse for what it's worth should flow on it's own triggered by a thought or sight or sound.
I can't write for another however hard I try.
I write not for fame or fortune like a sneeze or cough got to get done with it to get relief.
My stock of words are limited my verse even worse but when I am done writing a smile flickers on my lips relief in my heart.