The Poetry Marathon

A little girl ran out to her garden
The wide range of colors that Nature spread fascinated her
Smelling the fragrance she caressed them
Goose bump their velvety touch created on her tender skin
She closed her eyes and savored the warm feeling
Suddenly a rough gloves hand covered her mouth
And dragged her to the bushes
He stripped and raped her and ran away
Whimpering the bleeding child ran to her mother
And cried, “mom, I just had an accident”

Redacted version
A little girl ran out to her garden
The that Nature spread fascinated her
Smelling the fragrance she caressed them
Goose bumps their velvety touch created on her tender skin
She closed her eyes and savored the warm feeling
Suddenly a rough hand covered her mouth
And dragged her to the bushes
He ran away
Whimpering the bleeding child ran to her mother

Wasn’t I born for my profession?
Search and seize have been my forte
Ever since I have been an imp.
Would catch a cockroach or two
Examine them minutely
Wondered why they breathed their last in my hands
Garden flies, butterflies, hot kitchen vessels
Nothing escaped my attention.
Grew up to be a Pharma chemist.
I killed more mice than the cancer that we grew on them
Colorful medicinal compounds would I make
And dose them on the poor critters.
Miserable they were but they did teach me
Those also serve that wait and hope
In all earnestness noble was my profession
Overfive decades of dedicated work
Many a medicaments have I developed
They are but a disappearing drop
In the ocean of knowledge that still lays uncovered

Full marathon will be starting soon. It is 5.50pm saturday here in India. My half marathon will start tomorrow 6.30am IST. All the best to poets all over the world!

I am 72 year old ex-pharma scientist. Successfully completed half marathon last year. The editor of the anthology was so good my finished product was amazing.

Since retiring from active research two years ago, I am able to indulge in serious literary endeavours.

I am excited about the upcoming marathon. Last yearI did the half. Same this year.

I am  72 year old retired Pharma scientist. I write stories and poems in various internet  platforms.

I am from Hyderabad India

Leafing through the pages of the Captain’s log

of meandering voyages through sea and sand

in the dusk’s fading hours relaxing inland

looking for glimmering light through dense fog.

Assessing the gains and losses of time,

skirmishes won and tough battles lost,

straggling at last through the winning post,

realized in the end that life was a mime.

Agonies endless had been many a score,

ecstasies have been not less but more.

Countless have I shed bushels of tears,

have been haunted by numerous endless fears.

Yet , happily do I set down this song

counting seconds ticking till the final GONG !

Getting something for nothing is the norm of the day/
Each one wants to win, who then will pay for it?
Burden of many rests on a few sturdy shoulders/
How long will these Atlases keep the world up?
Orwell’s bulls are shedding blood, sweat and tears/
The more equal pigs are laughing away to the bank/
Not for long will this state last
The bleeding giant soon will shrug
The world will roll and may be will land in an equitable universe.

Hard Days Ahead

World now is a hard place to live/
Vanished has the courtesy from man to man/
Law and order is a forgotten word/
Gun toting goons crush young buds under their feet/
War rages on unabated in civilized world
Thorns abound and where are the roses?
Collapsing are the family values
Harshness is ruling the roost
Tenderness isn’t legal tender anymore

Here comes the monsoon to Mumbai in the west coast/
It comes down in torrents and sheets/
Out come the umbrellas of various hues/
Women in colorful ones matching their raincoats/
Men in sombre black umbrellas befitting their stature/
Umbrella is status blind, indispensable to rich and poor alike.

When you are tired of treading the beaten path/
When day after day dawns and dies the same way/
When the material world appears ephemeral/
When the values you cherished backbite you/
When the mind-sea is churned by turbulent winds/
‘Tis time to enter a new kindergarten.
Give your life a second start.
The books for beginners are simple and few in number.
Mercy, compassion and self-introspection/
are the shining beacons that will light your way.