What’s my calling?

What’s my calling?

To face dejections appalling

Few discover it late

Mine continues to evade


My pricking conscience

Without being pretentious

Questions the soul

Is it justified in expecting a dole?


None to haul over the coal

Whoever with a nonexistent goal

and lackadaisical attitude, the life path stroll

Success keeps a distance of a barge pole


Each one is blessed with some aptitude

Lame are excuses of Ineptitude

Rust gathered must be shorn

To put to use, skill ought to be honed


Let go of the mundane rigmarole

Creative pursuits shall put you on a roll

A little effort and jostling

Of the mind, unravels a genie named “calling”.

Forlorn Souls

Three forlorn souls

In different isolated nooks

Sullen in their heads

A life of dissidence brook


Reticence being the hallmark of the two

Delving into their minds, none could do

Tantrums and disdain for the third

Forms their agenda without a cue


Surreptitiously stumbling across searches

Gave an insight into an unnerving scare

Could it be manifestation of depression?

Does this symptom not even adolescents spare


Laying down expectations in vague terms,

Lot like a puzzle to unscramble

Only to show aggression and outshout the other

Upon failing to decipher the cryptic tangle


The key to any form of rapport

Stems from exchange of thoughts

Loathe they both, exercising their vocal chords

This bridge of Communication was long lost


Underlining inadequacies isn’t always an eye-opener

Respect and restraint forms the crux of every bond

All relationships need constant nurturing

Cohesion cannot be forged with a magic wand