Luck
smiles on,
in a charm;
What more you want?
Instead have believe.
Perseverance to strive,
Unabashedly sanguine,
Even on wretched ship, looks fine.
Just like this, an artisan's sculpture,
Sculpt a life yourself sans luck's charming smile.
PadmaShree, Sri Jayanta Mahapatra once said,"There is something in me that refuses to die. It’s there, somewhere deep inside me perhaps. And this is poetry." The genesis of POETICbug was thus an act of unleashing the curbed thoughts in the form of poems. POETICbug,says, "I praise; I dare; I invoke care; You write, recite my glory; I am, Poetry." -Taking forward the spirit of poetry !
Each day a kind deed.
Aug032015
Sans luck's charm
Luck
smiles on,
in a charm;
What more you want?
Instead have believe.
Perseverance to strive,
Unabashedly sanguine,
Even on wretched ship, looks fine.
Just like this, an artisan's sculpture,
Sculpt a life yourself sans luck's charming smile.
Jul282015
Tribute
There are souls that ignite minds,
Giving wings to fly, above and high,
Shining bright as they live along,
In simplicity their kind dwell,
Hoarding aspirations,
Achieving goals,
Inspiring the common as they soar,
When they walk beyond the horizon,
To those lands far, far away,
They leave behind their success trail,
And a legacy for us to emulate.
(A humble Tribute to one of the most loved man of India.)
Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)
Jul212015
Whoop, Screech, I say "Hi"
Chit chatter, whoop, screech,
We come in a group, hanging on trees,
Dancing and jumping on branches together,
Babies holding onto their mothers,
“Naughty little troop” is our name,
We love playing so many games.
We come in a group, hanging on trees,
Dancing and jumping on branches together,
Babies holding onto their mothers,
“Naughty little troop” is our name,
We love playing so many games.
Jul072015
Where are the little brown birds ?
In the large open veranda of my old house,
A tree stood beautifully tall.
Chirping gleefully on it,
little brown birds there were,
Swiftly flying and hoping around,
“Noisy little creatures”,
My grandpa would shout.
In some nooks and corners,
Or branches of that tree,
They built their home.
Come evening, they would all be gone.
All posts of this blog by Salvwi Prasad is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 India License