Closing Doors

A positive phase of life has turned 

Into a nightmare within a few months 

Omicron started the fall from the wall 

A slide down into depths of depression

Upon variation of dosage of medication 

Led to a volatile mind drawing the focus 

Away from the research and the writing 

While my mind readjusted to new dosage 

The doors that brought prosperity to me 

Started closing without any warning bells

While mind was rather waiting for the due 

payments, The change in management 

Closed the door for payments and work 

The smaller firm that gave work regularly 

Started running out of orders to give work 

That door was my big hope for this year 

I had made a deal with a supportive friend

Another door to fallback during hard times

But delay in delivery owing to depression 

Took away my credibility and reliability

Leading to that door getting closed hard

Now I am stuck with three reports unsold 

Company after company giving a no for sale, 

A wicked man wants them at cheap rates, 

Months of research and analysis lay 

in a folder, Awaiting a fresh lease of life 

Now that all doors are closed, I am just 

letting my mind write poetry, Blog a poem

 a day until I see a door opening for me 

I am not ready to succumb to depression 

Depression cost me my career. I had to become a freelancer. I am just a day away from a disaster if my mind struggles to focus. I rely on medicines for focus and concentration. I can't write a word even if I have done all research if there is any variation. It happened on multiple occasions in the last 5 years. Meditation, positivity, etc sounds nice. But the battle inside the mind is not easy to tame.

The Island Of Creativity

A private island detached from politics

religions, colours, races, and nationalities 

Where the artistic chaos exists with peace 

Based on unwritten rules for behaviour 

An Island of artists, writers, hippies, 

poets, sculptors, and other creators 

Connected to the rest of the world 

With the internet and social media 

Living in old buildings and new tents

Artistic mud huts and wooden cabins

Hostels, homestays, and cottages 

Amidst the nature with the new gadgets

Solar and wind resources powering life

A place where artists can collaborate

In real to create unique art installations 

Poets collaborating to create anthologies 

Recite poetry for the interested audience 

Painters giving life to the written words 

And decorating streets with canvases 

New age hippies practicing spirituality 

 modern hippy music sans drugs 

Silent rooms for authors to write books

They can sell books online worldwide 

Libraries keep books for lending and sales

Gardens for those who want to meditate 

The vivid floral arrangement art on display 

Walkways with tree canopy along with the 

gardens for minds seeking inspiration

Playgrounds to enjoy games for relaxation

Farms for sustainable fruits, vegetables, 

dairy production, Community kitchens 

serve the artists the chemical-free food 

Open-air theatres for dramas, comedy, 

music, movies, and other performing arts 

Podcasts for reaching out to the world 

Walls of graffiti art that change with time

Sculptors bring to life new age sculptures 

Masons and carpenters give life to new 

artistic buildings with limited materials

Each individual contributes with their 

talents and manual labour to maintain 

The way of life and creating new avenues 

Visitors can explore the island and follow

their interests, They can contribute to the 

sustainability of the island of creativity 

There are some pockets of liberal places

Around the world where artists co-exist  

I dream of a utopian self-sustainable 

island for creativity to thrive in groups

This poem is inspired by videos and write-ups about Danish Freetown Christiania, Auroville in India, and Quartzsite in the USA. Image courtesy stock. 

A Farmhouse Wish

 

I wish to lease 

A farmhouse somewhere in the hills of Idukki

Where the fog and mist welcome the mornings 

An old building left behind by the British owner

With wooden floors and ceilings and a cellar 

Cellar used to store produce from the farms 

A fireplace to enjoy some drinks at night 

Maybe some ghosts hanging around 

To give a company and tell tales from another era

A nice place to enjoy the emptiness of life 

Surrounded by mango, nutmeg, and teak trees 

Pepper creepers crawling on the smaller trees 

Farms of tea and cardamom keep the air fragrant

The Orange trees amidst the tea plants look odd

The bushes of cinnamon trees evoke strong feelings

Along with the cloves and vanilla beans

Maybe some apples and peaches too 

Small streams run down through the farms 

The freshly brewed coffee and tea from the area

May make the mornings exciting for walks 

Along the hills towards the local junction 

To get local news and a bit of banter with people

A place to enjoy the monsoon rains and the winter 

A life away from the cities and concrete jungles 

Farming and enjoying the harvest of produce 

Maybe setting up a microbrewery for wine 

With fresh air aplenty and less humidity 

And a lot of big hills on the horizon 

The rides through the hairpins will be exciting

Trekking in the jungles and boating in dams

There are plenty of things to do 

Maybe I am still in love with the hills 

As I grew up on a barren hill with tapioca fields 

This poem is inspired by this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-omMJ9zRoO8 A couple from London restoring their Portuguese Quinta. The images are taken from Shutterstock and Cardamom Farm Shutterstock 

Sunrise At Kanyakumari Beach

Kanyakumari, 

The southernmost tip of the Indian mainland  

It boasts of a small beach with some rocks

The curves in the map are real down there 

A rare beach to have both sunrise and sunset

We stayed overnight to see the first rays 

In the pitch darkness, we went to the beach 

Stood among the patient crowd to get the best view

On a distant horizon, the sun rose from the sea 

Splitting the darkness with bright light 

With a tinge of orange shade clouds 

It revealed the beauty of the beach unlike under lights 

The sun slowly moved towards the Vivekananda rocks

And then placed itself aside the Thiruvalluvar statue 

A rock-based pathway towards the sea emerged 

Parallel to the Vivekananda rocks 

We slowly walked through it to the end 

We sat on the rocks and saw the sun moving away

Then looked at the beach from meters inside the sea 

It was magical with the sea on both sides 

It was scary, but it was memorable 

As the images of the Tsunami 

That lashed there in 2004

Was still fresh in the mind 

As the dawn bloomed 

Boats started taking visitors 

To the Vivekananda rocks

We rather enjoyed the Vivekananda rocks 

From the rock pathway, as we walked back to the beach

The comments on Twitter, about the best beaches, as part of a question related to my poem The Last Sunset gave me the inspiration to write about the sunrise I saw at Kanyakumari Beach. This is the southernmost tip of India, if you check the map. Both the sunrise and sunset here are beautiful. The images are taken from Shutterstock and Wikimedia Commons.  

The Last Sunset

 

A bed set on a lonely beach

Shallow shore lets in slower tides

To fill water beneath the bed

It is awaiting its next guest

To pass over the message

Left behind by the last tenant

Wish you a happy journey!

He is set to come in the evening

For enjoying one last sunset

To drench his feet with waves

 Sitting on the bed facing the sea  

 As he could barely stand

He would rather walk on the sands 

But he is too weak even with support

He is not old, he is just ill 

 He has visited this beach many times

 With his sweetheart in his prime days

 He wishes to see those memories again

 As his sweetheart has left him for good

 She won’t know about the wish he shares

 With the waves for one last time, a secret

 He could lay down and enjoy conversations

 With the stars, that were liked by her dearly

 He will be bidding adieu to the moon

 He used to see her on the moon when lonely

A big thank you smile for the moon

For bestowing company in his empty nights

Before leaving this world, while sleeping

 From the heartbreak, miseries, and illnesses

 Through euthanasia, a merciful exit from the world

 At his favourite beach, where he weaved all his dreams! 

 

 

This poem is inspired by the picture given by #OnePicPoetry. This poem is dedicated to those who wish to leave this world without pain legally. I certainly wish that for myself.