A grey rat

The poor mother deprived of food feeds the baby over the brim.
The average dad who ran errands for a living adores the superstar.
The plump child bullied in his teens builds enviable physique.
The simple girl catcalled in the school is now a makeup influencer.

There is one narcissist who orders people to respect him.
There is a pervert who acts pious to not let society judge him.
The unskilled one wants to earn in millions and show one's worth.
The ignored child tries to be the best kid for parents' affection.

We are all insecure in our own ways,
We are all trying to win the rat race,
Often forgetting that we are all same,
Like any other rat in the cat's game.

Winter

The rains have slowly started marking the end of heat, 

everyone rejoiced on day one to the petrichor sweet.
Time moved quickly and all returned to their abode,
Tending to them, securing and praying not to erode.

All were in a bustle but only the old elephant was calm,
For its concern was how to keep the next winter warm.
She has had good memory of the agony from the past,
How she had to breathe voluntarily to not make it the last.

The days were getting shorter, the air smelled like mold,
All life went into their own burrows fearing the cold.
Those left in the open grew thicker fur for the chills,
Silence loomed all over, gone were the mating shrills.

There was enough greenery and water around to feed,
Problem was the chilling wind that the autumn freed.
The water was freezing, the leaves and twigs crushing,
Foxes and wolves kept track, eagles often came rushing.

There was no one around to ask about the return of sun,
No sign of hope, no will to live for she was the only one.
The battle was between the elephant and her own self,
Everyone else was a spectator, for meat on their shelf.

All that she knew was that the sun shall again rise,
For she was told truth by her father, noble and wise.
She ate the frozen branches, chewing on and on and on,
and sipped waters till all sensations in trunk were gone.

Countless days passed by without a sign of sun's heat,
All that helped her know she was alive was her heartbeat.
Lastly, the sun came a day clearing months of mist,
She was the only left alive of all she knew from her list.

Such shall be the despair where one has to win a fight,
Where all others shall skip or die screaming in plight.

Seasons

The summer has lasted long, there were cracks in the hard soil.

All the life that was left was throbbing in a biological turmoil.

The clouds were forming, all creatures rejoiced in the first rain.
The rain brought relief, and the breeze that soothned the pain.

Soon the incessant rains made the whole place smell musty,
The souls that once rejoiced, now wanted a land that's not murky.
The rains ended slowly, and all water drained as streams into rivers.
The earth cooled enough and the breezes now caused shivers.

The days became shorter and colder and a white gloom doomed,
All life was striving to find its own place as the cold wind loomed.
The fur grew thicker and the vultures often fed to their content.
Not many beasts knew how to make those winters well spent.

The sun eventually got warmer and the mist was fading away,
Gone was the cold wind, and the little ones were all out to play.
The days got longer and everyone girded around the big lake,
Until the predators ensured that lives were either ways at stake.

The summer has lasted long, there were cracks in the hard soil.
All the life that was left was throbbing in a biological turmoil.
The cycle has repeated year over year for as long as we know,
Only they survive who realise how to stay alive after each blow.

చరిత్ర నది

ఈ కదిలే నిమిషం హిమమే, 

పొంగి పారదా చరిత్ర నదియై,
నీ ప్రతిష్ట పర్వత సమమే,
నిలువదా భావి తరాలకు సారధియై.

This moment passing by us is like a drop of snow, which shall eventually flow down as a river of history. Our glory is like that of a mountain, (from which such a river shall spring) which would stand as a guiding stone to the generations to come by.

An expression of my overconfidence that my glory shall stand forever like mountains as time trickles by like rivers (Young blood).

Reposted from 2011-12.

ప్రతి నదికి గమ్యం సంద్రమే,
కాలం చేసెను మధనం కవ్వమై,
చివరకు కురియగ వర్షమే,
కరుగదా ప్రతి పర్వతమూ ఇసుకై.

Every river that flows shall reach the sea, where it shall be churned uniformly. And when the water returns again, as rain, wouldn’t such rain melt these mountains away into thin sand?

An expression of my understanding that many such glorious and heroic pasts have faded away in the flow of time, and most glories cherish.

Why?

When I ride my loved bike between two cars,

Why not get crushed like a foil between the dies?
Why not end up amidst those glittering stars,
Like a forlorn forgotten twinkler in the dark skies?

There’s a poison bottle somewhere under the sink,
Why should I not pour a shot and sip my drink?
Why should I run a rat race amidst such stink,
When I could be gone in a day if not a blink?

Tell me why, Oh tell me why,
Tell me why I shouldn’t die.