Spending time with Urdu poetry was bound to have repercussions. This original (original here only means that it is not translated or copied) poem started off as a reply to a mail and then I added verse after verse. The last two verses were added in the bus, on my way home. To those people who lost out on my PPs of youth (Poor Poems just like PJ stands for Poor Joke) this is an example. But the best part is, even though I disparage it, for fear of how the reader would take it , when I’m writing it, it doesn’t at all look silly. Only when one looks back, after some time, it looks poor. I think that is a good sign, because it shows that one growing intellectually and poetically.
I cannot sing,
Neither can I dance.
Cricket is the only game,
I play just by chance.
My chess is ordinary,
In cards, I always end last.
I wanted to be a runner,
But my breath said – whew, not so fast.
I cannot talk,
All I can do is laugh
Then you expect a thinker,
But in two minutes you’d had enough.
Somewhere, as I grew,
I thought – ‘So what, I can write’
But then I gave up,
Coz there’s no thrill in black and white.
Now I just engross in my job,
It gives me pleasure unbound.
But then comes weekend and I feel again,
Whew, two days off is just insane.
So, Monday now,
Is the best day of my life.
Office is like,
Coming home to my wife.
It took me three days
And five versions, to write this one.
At last I can say,
Whew, this project is done.
O’ SHE, how true rings the saying
that goes around here.
When you’ve got no talent,
you become an engineer!
I will call this poem – “When you’ve got no talent, you become an engineer”
Next time I will write something to ingratiate the engineering profession.
Next time I will write something to ingratiate the engineering profession.
No comments:
Post a Comment