Passion…unbridled

The Best of Everything

Why do we always look for the best?

Why, I wonder, is there a perpetual quest

To find that elusive element of superiority

In everything we own, or do- when the majority

Of our life is spent somewhere in-between

Why do we aim for perfection unseen?

 

Yet another question comes to my mind

How is the very best of everything defined?

The higher you look, the higher the bar

What seems near becomes increasingly far

So there’s a mirage we end up chasing

Ignoring the journey that could be amazing..

 

Those were my thoughts as one fine day

I spent introspecting, not content with the way

My life and career seemed to progress-

An average pace seemed inadequate, I confess

I longed to strive towards the “best” 

However I could not put to rest

The question of how to define this term

The uncertainty of this answer made me squirm 

I could do better, but the best seemed to be

A nebulous concept removed from reality..

 

After intense  mental exercise I concluded

The answer to the question that had eluded

Me was that “best”was a term relative

For each individual, its aim was to give 

Each individual some boost to do “better”

So, better or best, it did not matter-

While “best” is the point of satisfaction individual

“Better ” indicates discontentment residual

 

So the gist of all this is (simplified)-

I shall strive to be better, and once satisfied

I shall consider myself to be the “best”

Thus my conundrum is laid to rest!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I do not know what people prefer

I can say for myself, I do not like to suffer

At the end of a book thoroughly enjoyed

I do not like to finish feeling that a void

Has been left- happy endings I like to see

Thought they might exist only in fantasy

*

Tragic endings leave me dissatisfied

Poetic license, I think, could be utilized

To give a positive spin to all works of fiction

Since real life already has a predilection

For partial, unhappy, unfinished endings

I want fiction to eliminate these things

*

I like those books where the curtain drops

After all ends are tied, all ambiguity stops

The story has reached a happy conclusion

The protagonists at least have an illusion

Of a perfect future filled with happiness

Their trials and tribulations are put to rest

*

Do I read fairy tales, you might ask me

The answer is yes, that’s what I want to see-

Adult versions of fairy tales where characters pretend

To live happily ever after at the end!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The idea of just wandering off to a cafe with a notebook and writing and seeing where that takes me for awhile is just bliss.

J K Rowling

When I was young I used to strive

To bring my thoughts on paper alive

In the best handwriting I could manage

Filling lines neatly, page by page

Using ink that smoothly flowed

I was proud of my penmanship, and it showed

I wrote papers for school, stories, essays

I kept journals, wrote verses in different ways

If I had a thought, it had to be expressed

In long hand, words had to be impressed

Upon sheets of paper with a fine pen

My mind and right hand worked in tandem then

This continued through all my training; helped me

Grasp complex concepts, helped me clearly see

How my knowledge I could consolidate

Into practice; various facts I learnt to collate.

**

I do not know how somewhere along the way

Computers and tablets started filling my day

Reading and writing became, increasingly

Activities to be indulged in electronically

I was soon typing my papers, and word documents

Replaced the good old ink and parchment

Now penmanship is mostly confined

To all the forms that have to be signed

The change was gradual, and I never noticed

The lack of actual writing, I doubt I missed

Using pen and paper the way I used to

Like most others, I had embraced technology too

**

Then one day, teaching my son to write

I did not have a sheet of paper in sight

At home, so I went ahead and bought

A notebook for him, so he could be taught

The basic R of writing systematically-

Something shifted within me, quite dramatically

I had a strong urge to write on a crisp white sheet

So a notebook I bought for myself, this desire to meet

The first few words that I penned quite slowly

Were almost cathartic, soon  I was immersed wholly

In filling the blank pages in bright black ink

My mind and my hand formed an unbroken link

It felt good to write on paper, and since then

I indulge in  that lost medium fairly often

Somehow the flow of ideas is different 

When I write instead of typing a document

It serves as a great reminder to me

Old habits die hard, certainly!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(I just completed five hundred posts on this blog..)

I started this blog just for a lark

I had no desire to make a mark

Was searching for an outlet for self-expression,

And as reading blogs had been an obsession

I decided to take the plunge and start-

My aim was to write about anything close to my heart

The first few posts were penned in prosaic prose

Then one day, struck by writer’s block, I chose

To put my thoughts in the form of a verse

It was more exciting, so for better or worse

I switched (almost) exclusively to this form

Poems with rhyming verses are now the norm.

**

In my daily life, I take quite seriously

My profession, which forms my identity

But I am so much more than just a physician

This blog helped me extend beyond my vocation

I am a mother, a traveler, a bibliophile-

All these have a major influence on my style

Of writing, on this blog I tend to reveal

Everything for which I have passion and zeal

Then there are the challenges in photography

That spur me to capture in my lens every curiosity

Thanks to this blog, more skill I have acquired

In observing people and nature, now I am wired

To jot down ideas, keep my camera with me

To constantly provide fuel for my creativity.

**

The blogging community has welcomed me

With open arms, warmth and honesty

As the number of followers keeps growing

I am motivated to keep my ideas flowing

I thank all the readers who have chosen

To spend their time reading what I have penned

As I go forward, I hope my writing would stay

Heartfelt, honest and original all the way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I dream of sitting by the side
Of a tranquil lake, its expanse wide
Stretching to the horizon
Its waters resplendent in the sun
Writing in my journal, with inspiration
Derived from the picturesque location
Surely the landscape’s sublime beauty
Would spur me to pen soulful poetry
Maybe I would strike a creative goldmine
And the poem would be a masterpiece of mine
***
Those were my thoughts as I sat one day
On my desk, my mind wandering away
As words somersaulted through my brain
In a jumble; I kept attempting in vain
To string them into a verse of some kind
But nothing meaningful could come to my mind
I blamed my surroundings drab and insipid
My desk did not inspire me one bit
Since there was no way I could go to a lake
Thinking I was clever, I decided to fake
My imagined landscape by painting one
Complete with the sands and the sun
It set the creative juices flowing
Yet that was not enough to get me going
Ahead with my writing, I still drew a blank
I was facing a writer’s block, the reality then sank
So I pushed the thought of writing away
With a promise to return to my journal another day
***
Then one day, while on a nondescript drive
Without any preamble, ideas came alive
And arranged them in verses all by themselves
I was in the flow, I did not know myself
How an entire poem I was able to conjure
Inspiration had just come knocking at my door
***
The creative process is unpredictable
Writer’s block usually occurs at the table
While inspiration often strikes when I least expect
Vagaries of inspiration I have to respect..