"struggler" poems
When things go wrong as they some times will
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile but you have to sigh
When care is pressing you down a bit
Rest if you must but dont quit
Life is queer with its twists and turns
As everyone of us sometimes learns
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck out
Dont give up though the pace seems slow
You may succeed with another blow
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victors cup
And he learned to late when the night came down
Oh how close he was to the golden crown
Success is failure turned inside out
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt
And you never can tell how close you are
It may be near when it seems afar
Hence stick to the fight when your hardest hit
For its when things seem worst that you must never
Q U I T.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
I was on bed then clueless about my life.
I remember three years ago, it was a strife.
I was made to realize by pain of being alive.
The procedure of tracheotomy was done.
The other nose was cut into my windpipe.
The lower end of my throat was bandaged.
The two navels are located on my stomach.
The second navel was gained at the hospital.
The upper navel is not always here to be seen.
Blankly I stared at the world in front of me.
Bluntly I stared at a big wall in front of me.
Bleakly I stared at people coming to see me.
They would come few in numbers initially.
That time is something I can't recall clearly.
Then I was home worriedly waiting for him.
The eternal-seeming torture period started then.
The dreaded physiotherapist used to come then.
The kind man was renamed ***physio the ******
He caused me great pain, I was like a 3-year old.
He saw me writhe in pain & I begged for mercy.
He continued coming & I remained terrorized.
I used to ask my parents if they're actually mine.
I was made to disbelieve in them as my parents.
I took numbing pills directly into my stomach.
I used to remain in sheer terror all day long.
I took offence at the sound of the doorbell itself.
I was asking my parents if someone would come.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
Because my mom once said,
Life is a journey
And it won’t be that sturdy.
Crawl like a creeper
Or dance like a tapper,
It would let you decide
But still will push you over the tide.
There will be a day
It will hold you back,
Fight the tears
Dread the day
There is a light in you
Don’t see others fly away,
You are there to fight the grey.
Those who’ll go out of your sight
Could not make your home bright,
Don’t count on people
They are not for you,
Look up to those stars
That’s where you can hide your scars.
There will be days
When all you’ll sense would be darkness,
Don’t forget to look through it
Colors will be waiting
To fill your emptiness.
Feel the breeze
Open your arms,
Drink the rain,
Love the wind,
Let the smell of the flowers
Cover you,
Let the music of the birds
Be your language,
All you will learn is to smile
Because all days won’t be alike.
Because my mom once said,
Promises are like rivers
They don’t have any shape,
They begin from an end
And those ends seldom meet.
Don’t wait for any soul
Winds are born to be blown,
What they take
And what they leave
Is another story
Little told and so untold.
There will be days
When you’ll get tired
You’ll crave for love
You’ll wait for someone to hold you,
Breathe and begin again
Because some cries go in vain.
It won’t warn you before the fire
Not even when you will be half burnt.
It won’t collect the ashes
But that end
It will go in your name.
Because my mom once said,
Life is like a game.
You’ll never win
But you won’t mind losing in the end,
This loss would bear what you are
Like a mirror to your sabotage.
It won’t flow with happiness
You’ll be the struggler
And you’ll have to be the believer.
Because those who don’t believe
Throughout they bleed.
Even when you don’t find the reasons
Remember, autumn is also a season.
Beauty is not in fulfillment
It’s in half said quotes
Musical notes
Unsung melodies
Quite soliloquies.
Happiness is not in the balloon that flies high
It’s in the wings of those nestlings
Who so adamantly try,
It is not in victories
But joyful histories
Curious mysteries
Unexplained madness
Self created sadness.
Because my mom once said
This life is your creation
A battle without destination.
Catch all the butterflies
Live all your cries
Rise like someone will catch you,
Fall like someone will push you.
Because one day you’ll start this journey
All over again
Not because this won’t be enough
Enough is never the word
It’s always more and even more
But because you’ll once again become my sword
And I’ll not hold you ever
I’ll let you sway.
Because my mom once said,
I am born the brightest sunray
Life is just a child’s play.
-Prachi Bhardwaj
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
You can only dream of
places I have been
Mentally,
All the things
I did for my family,
All they did,
instead of helping me,
Is trying to
put sense in me,
When I come to a point
Where I am
about to plead insanity,
A room of variances,
Out of body experiences,
Mental *******
Heart full of spasms,
The ones
my past couldn’t fathom,
This ain’t a struggler’s anthem,
But I can’t help but,
Generalize,
And I can’t undermine,
That I felt heaven,
At least on my fingertips,
I found hope,
At the brink of disbelief,
Don’t blame the postman,
If you put the wrong address,
Life is a *****
depending on how you dress her,
Let the broken glass,
Mess up the dresser,
Rosewood, Redwood, any wood,
If I could I would,
The more I clench my fists,
the more sand I loose,
But I choose not to,
just my screws,
My life is like a travelogue,
No just ticket needed just travel along,
Like a broken pen and a moleskin,
A DSLR and an eye to watch closely,
No backpacker,
Just a bad actor,
Modern day rye catcher,
Self financer ,
A mere puppet on the string,
That life hangs by,
finding questions to some bad answers,
Putting up with bad promise makers,
When a promise may curse,
Life is just a makeshift,
Life is what you make it,
Or make of it*
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 11:49 AM UTC
Lincoln?
He was a mystery in smoke and flags
Saying yes to the smoke, yes to the flags,
Yes to the paradoxes of democracy,
Yes to the hopes of government
Of the people by the people for the people,
No to debauchery of the public mind,
No to personal malice nursed and fed,
Yes to the Constitution when a help,
No to the Constitution when a hindrance
Yes to man as a struggler amid illusions,
Each man fated to answer for himself:
Which of the faiths and illusions of mankind
Must I choose for my own sustaining light
To bring me beyond the present wilderness?
Lincoln? Was he a poet?
And did he write verses?
"I have not willingly planted a thorn
in any man's *****
I shall do nothing through malice: what
I deal with is too vast for malice."
Death was in the air.
So was birth.
1.3k
#
*A curse, deeply embedded into the DNA..
this is the inevitable fallout of the love of man--
"Sins, passed down from fathers to the sons.."
even with the best of fathers, and the most tenderest of sons.
As in all things inherent within the confines of a fallen world,
this universal brokenness too must be worked out,
from a deep place within the heart and will of the carrier.
Little mini-carriers do not yet understand, yet as they grow,
it is in an even more deeply- embedded trait within us
that tells us that we need to rise above
that which now quenches..
Our own rightful glory--
the one that is ours to step into
within the process of Becoming.
There is always hope. In the end,
death's current rein, loses;
Hell-bent on doing all it can
to keep us hidden from love,
it stoops so low as to even that of harming a child--
through the dark-blanket-covering of
one's own little spirit.. in to concealment.
Always is there a threat, that if gone unchecked over time,
that there would become a searing,
but also a threat to one's little spirit,
is the risk of annihilation to their own little autonomy--
were they to crawl back into the womb in deep need
for love and protection from what now attempts
to sear the little-one into complete removal
from love's healing light.
It is the great oppression of the world, that its inhabitants
have had to so very unfairly learn how to hide from Love--
and yes.. even at such an early age. The injustice of it all
is overcome when the struggler learns how to rise above--
even that which causes most,
them to want to (or have to) hide.
This very struggle, if left unchecked
(or becomes greatly multiplied through the horrors
of childhood trauma) that sadly,
some little-ones are unjustly forced to endure..
these things can become the roots of what would/could eventually
evolve into varying grades of schizophrenia
and/or a whole slew of other mental/emotional disabilities.
Thus is the world, in how it becomes pinned down,
and separated from Love..
the sad fallout, towards outcome..
for some.
You (and those you love)
will not become one of these unfortunate ones,
my sweet friend.
No... no, not at all.*
#
Sep 28, 2023
Sep 28, 2023 at 12:45 PM UTC
#
I never tried to hurt you, I never ever wanted to hurt you. There is no way that you can write without drawing out the best parts of the warmest and most loving hearts, but every time ones such as yourself draw from me (without your even knowing it) the best I have to give in response, I still somehow end up ******* it all to hell.
There is no way whatsoever that a person who conveys their innerworkings and trauma the way that you do should ever slip through the cracks-- unloved, unheld, and un-cared for by loving, supportive hearts.. (and I'm not talking about romantic love..)
I have an idea who it is that you are in real life, by what you have chosen to convey of yourself and your story throughout the years.. but that doesn't really matter either, I guess
because history tells me that my unfiltered way of talking would just **** that up also.
But if an honest struggler such as yourself wanted a ****** artist to never give up responding from the heart.. if that is what it takes to help keep the wild, unfettered ones like you (at least, writing-wise) from slipping, alone into despair, then that is what I will do.. not give up either.
But trust me when I tell you, babe.. I am burned out also.
Never, ever give up believing. If there were enough ones such as yourself (as to what you are writing here), or even just you, alone-- continuing to write open-heartedly the way you have in the past, and again here.. I promise that I would not give up also. If you want to be held closely when the ravens come and have picked your hope clean, then that is what you will most likely receive.. and I dont necessarily mean from me. I have studied your heart and spirit through your chosen posted words almost since the very first day I got here.
There is no way that others cannot both see and feel those things also, kid.
Hold on to that.
#
Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 10:38 PM UTC
All that other folks can do,
Why with patience...should not you?
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a vague man
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victory cup
And he learned too late when the night came down
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems really far
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
Far too many times we let
unimportant things into our minds
And then it's usually too late
to see what made us blind.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
They told me lines were flat.
The good hung heads, the others did too.
They told me you left from the struggler's bed,
and then you left it at that.
Hearin' the dances,
harmonica's stances,
the flourishes you cast on us all,
but there'll be tomorrow,
no cause for no sorrow,
time moves on, taking names of those who fall.
And so I heard, that you left,
and I heard they they wept,
and I heard everybody screaming high into the gardens,
and I heard that I must weep,
everybody in the bleak,
but I see you made it fine on your own,
Don't need that obligatory depression,
Your departure, peace and sound,
I've grown out of that obsession,
And so I've heard you're out of town.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
I can feel you want to talk with me as much I do
yet we both hesitate
speechless genius turns out struggler
till sound can claim your voice
you're running circles in my head...... stop!
make up your mind what you want
I'm still ****** as hell at you for leaving me dry out so
do you think my silence means I agree?
no.
I'm quite mad at you, but I love you more
and the vase of flowers I give you, is yours
I've told you before, but you didn't catch it
I cannot turn my back on you, even when you tear speech away.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must - but don't you quit.
Life is queer with it's twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out,
Don't give up, though the pace seems slow ..
You might succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man.
Often the struggler has given up,
When he might have captured the victor's cup,
And her learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out.
The silver tint to the clouds of doubt -
And you can never tell how close you are,
It mat appear when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It when things seem worst that you mustn't quit !
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
Often in my sleep i ponder
Where does my restless mind wander?
I'm walking through the timeline of my life
It's just me alone….the emptiness seems to cut like a knife
I tell myself--'look how far you've come'
No...don't stop..you've got to keep going..no matter how much might it feel cumbersome
And after you've walked a while...take a moment
Reflect upon ur mistakes,repent and then for some time become dormant
Wake up....the light's on...it's on you
You will be tested...be brave,be true
Often the zephyr of sadness has caused me to sob and whine
No more of that...It's now time for some sunshine
The days feel like years...and a year feels like a millennium
It's a lone battle i'm fighting...the only warrior in the colosseum
My morals and principles is all that I have left with me
Wide empty spaces and a bit of scattered hope is all I see
I see no beginning…there seems to be no end..just an infinite path
I’m no connoisseur of life…I’m just a struggler like you…
Fighting through the obstacles…surging from underneath the vast ocean…..
…..trying desperately to reach the surface and breathe the essence of life
The more i go upwards the more I seem to be getting a grasp of life and its purpose
Perhaps this is how it is meant to be….
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road your trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing u down a bit-
Rest if u must but never quit.
Life is strange with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow-
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a fair and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learns too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out-
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you can never tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar,
So stick to the fight when the hardest hit,-
It’s when things seem worse when you mustn’t quit.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 5:20 AM UTC
Once he was 7 years old
His sensational story got told
When he was compelled to stop
Still climbed the mountain top
As he sat by the setting sun
Finding ways to be the one
Rising from the ashes
Figuring his way out through clashes
Realising the deep dirt he was in
How well did he solved the problems he had never seen
Keeping his head still with a grin
Transforming himself into the man he had never been
Believing himself to get out of any strife
Embracing the true spirits of life
Humbling himself into a gentleman
Nurturing members of his clan
Showcasing a journey of tranquility with grief
So well did he displayed the power of belief
This was the ‘Struggle of a lifetime’
But everything, everything, was worth the time.
Jan 19, 2025
Jan 19, 2025 at 12:04 PM UTC
A student life has many phases.
a sincere and responsible student.
a solitude loner in the world.
a struggler of success.,
on way to know real myself.,
a good child to fulfill his parents dream ,for which they are waiting since long time.
a revolutionist towards negative norms around us.,
to become a good man.
A match with competition so to get a good job.
A student life isn't that easy as it looks
He deals with many challenges which makes a survival of fittest for the upcoming world for him.
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 4:01 PM UTC
I love so hard
it’s not always pretty
so if you happen across me
on a day like this
just know your
lil struggler loves you
with all her heart.
pain, I mean real pain
spurs from loving devotion to God
and all of the People on this Earth
today’s challenges are necessary
for tomorrow’s Revolts
May 28, 2020
May 28, 2020 at 9:12 PM UTC