Choice

When you're soaking in tubs, smoking in pubs,
sipping on sugary cups playing with pups
Do you see the skill of the potter, glassblower,
do you taste your tea, or just sit and pity?

When you're riding the roads, crushing the toads,
amidst the neon boards hauling the loads,
Do you see the graffiti on sidewalls, waterfalls,
do you hear a banjo strum, or a bass drum?

Have you seen a fine wine vanish like turpentine,
drunk by the lush swine like they have a deadline?
Not all who share the privilege, taste anise or sage,
there may be a spillage, or an abrupt slippage.

Have you seen a plain lane, black asphalt mundane,
painted for a penny gain, into an art insane?
There is a beauty can seek, be it in a crooked beak,
or the mount Fuji's peak, am I a geeky freak?

To see such beauty is an art,
a technique learnt by the heart,
The learnt ones are fortunate,
for its not a course by the state.

Maybe it's my biased schemata
That you find them in every strata.

Seeking

Vapours of the ember, nights of a cold December,
Push me into slumber, nothing to remember.
A thorough inspection, deliberate introspection,
A memoir collection, to rekindle affection.

Keys on the hooks, just where no one looks,
Bills in the books, where Lord Tolkien cooks,
banded bangled wrist, pen bleeding in the fist,
a week long Playlist, to wipe the clock’s mist.

What to teach the kids? Who asks and who bids?
Where are the glass lids? How to control aphids?
The world fades white, too bright a light,
Hear my muted plight? Come help me fight.

All that I now can recall, a young and a lively fall,
Spring Fair's game stall, shooting darts at a doll.
It's the only life I see, in this world I’d love to flee,
The only moment I was free, a flash and I still glee.

A second or a week, when I was tense and meek,
Too love-shy to speak, That is all I wish to seek.