Author Archives: montecyril

My wishes are not horses  I have learnt to ride with the losses  How the two-faced coin tosses  There’s slavery in aspiration, we are not its bosses  The miles add up to the marathon  Is it victory at all in the race that was run?  You can see who takes all that I’ve won  IsContinue reading “Your promises?!: A poem “

I have my hands folded  for Jupiter to return  to an old mountain home   like a letter found in a forgotten tome  I tried to rest easy. My toil, at best,  was tired, but still had zest  I couldn’t stand the distant one  Nor could I, the sun  I had my hands folded  to somethingsContinue reading “I have my hands folded…: A poem “

The tummy dummy may just as well lose himself in his own fat. But people with lumpy edges are always at their wits end over the battle of the bulge. Austerity, they say, could be the best way to fight obesity, but that certainly didn’t lend Socrates the looks of a Greek god. A goodContinue reading “A tummy may not be whammy: Just for laughs “

At your loyalties, I culture my levity  There are no shadows of doubt in my brevity  I am not cut up at all by adversity  The lines of my palms are never hasty  Time will tell what you befriend  Blood and sweat are the means to an end  I have placed my cards and hadContinue reading “Meeting eyes and wishing byes: A poem “

I’m always right,  but look at my plight  The devil and the deep sea  how they demeaned me!  They thought I’d say `Please!’  if I was brought to my knees  But I didn’t lose my soul  not by a barge pole!  I kept honour and dignity  and lived and died to be free  It isContinue reading “I’m always right, but look at my plight: A poem “

I thought I could be a cloud  that encompassed the sky   I thought I could be a grass field  that enveloped the earth  I thought I could be a fire  that couldn’t be put out by 158 fishy fire engines  I could kickass; my balls were brass,  nobody could touch my class.  This feelingContinue reading “A monkey can be smarter than a sage: A poem “

The worries in my hair  are as dense as air  Even though the pedophile of virtue  has popularity’s statue  My fortress has a moat,  a bridge and a boat  Time is a circle  Its belt has a buckle  It will fit my waist  even when age comes with haste  I will walk the path defined Continue reading “The end of tyranny: A poem “