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Posts Tagged ‘grind’

We have to spend our whole life getting up

each morning and see the many suns

rising courageous from the horizon.

A simple life- who knows when to retire

at night time and hug long-time companions

called pillows and dreaming dreams.

 

There are episodes here, which send ripples

into our seemingly monotonous existence

everyday. And we have to wage battles

with boredom and her sisters- called mediocrity

and irrelevance. But not all were lost.

Somebody needs to learn how to befriend them.

 

Some may think that something was lacking,

but perhaps in the company of silence we find

orbs of thoughts in the usual grind of days

like the fowls of the air having simple cares.

Season after season. Day after day. Aged

but content to the simple things that matter.

 

The small country talks over the weather

and life in the farm begins with asking folks

how the young are doing these days at school.

The familiar warmth of seeing old friends at a gathering.

The joy of witnessing someone else’s milestones.

 

The farewells and well wishes when someone

is leaving our own little places to discover

the bigness of things. There goes a little prayer

and a hope that nothing is wrong when one decides

to stay and carry on doing their tasks each day.

 

We might spend our whole life thinking it’s good after all, 

though it has never been easy and there are rough times.

 

But it will never stop us believing that peace within

is the only dwelling place, our enduring shelter

when the day comes that we will never be able

to witness the sun and it has forgotten to rise.

 

In the darkness, we hope our soul in its own little spaces

can see the moon and stars light up the evening sky.

While the wind whispers- all is well, we’ll be calm as the sea.

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To this semi-privacy. An epitaph reads,

“in this sanctum, a restless, herein lies,

its opaque remembrance failing to breath

devoid of oxygen, rousing to the grind

like  a zombie of the worst kind”.

Against the ancient cracked walls, my fingers

will then, smear red letter stains of anguish.

 

The light bulb is my flickering moon

cocooned in cobwebs, I dread.

It went dead as it signals the start

of the many battles I will wage against,

tonight. My anger boils up, my teeth gritted

to someone’s snoring and the other’s whispers.

One-eyed as a pirate I will set to sail the hours

struggling against nocturnal enemies, those

bloodlust critters diving into my sea of sheets.

 

This nightly tryst to its mattress,

and bed covers sweat stained,

sagged by bouts of insomnia-

wasted and nauseated,

by the stench of coffee.

A back-breaking day

I will not slumber away.

Square inches of a shared space

I rented, a coffin to say a bed.

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