One year from then.

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1820

Abstract

the shabby plank, a path I now had sworn, To not stop, no matter the bridge bleak or forlorn, As that is the lesser evil, against the peoples’ scorn, Of disdain for venturing outside the life they adorn, One of mundanity, any sliver of excitement shorn, Carefully ossified a life it is, the daily soulless yarn, One rigidity, away from which is my journey born.</p><p id="dfa6">A first run, a first lift, a spar, a poem, a long prose, Each step on a shaky crossing, the summit never close, Learning a wealth of new things, the soul in me grows, Even as the fatigue catches up, a body in throes, Every next step harder, as the headwind of age blows, With it, the despondency of losing out, strongly grows, But, for all that hurt, persevering ahead really shows, Within me at last, the child of joy once again arose.</p><p id="b034">Even as the naysaying flames were ever strongly fanned, Indeed, those who never stop trying are given a hand, Blessed with a few good souls that don’t let me strand, Sculpting a new bond, a new me, of stone and not sand, The shaky, rickety bridge, now becoming a familiar land, Treading blithely into a future which I never planned, One I am glad I decided I was not too old for, taking a stand, Onwards to the top, that reward called life I will make grand.</p><h2 id="b3b3">What do you feel about this poem?</h2><p id="bb14">Do you see your own story here perhaps? Or have you already written one? I would love to hear from you, if my story resonates with yours! I request to read the first poem as well (linked at top) for a larger message.</p><p id="e027">And if you perhaps like my words, I also invite you to take a look at some of my other works of poetry and comment on them, be it the content, the style, or the message!</p><div id="1208" class="link-block"> <a href="ht

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A tale of two poems.

A little over one year ago, I published my first ever poem on Medium, as I decided to confront my low point. An year since, a lot has changed, most for the better.

At this milestone, I look back at my not-so-great beginnings, and the me now and onward.

Of course, as a poem.

Just, before going in, I have a very strong urge to reverse the last stanza of the first poem, which goes like this:

From an expectation, to an experience.

My argument, this is a good summary of the change. I would love to know your opinion!

Now that I’ve indulged, let’s get to it.

The thin, rickety bridge connecting to the top, A scary climb, sure to fall should I ever stop, One shot at opening up, or forever shut shop, Reform and march, or settle to the age and drop Out of the race for self, resign to a mental flop. Should I risk it, or get disappeared into the mob? An year ago, this door of which I held the knob, And dared to open, to rid of my heart’s dark blob.

Trepid, timid, tense, tumultuous, turbid and torn, I climbed the shabby plank, a path I now had sworn, To not stop, no matter the bridge bleak or forlorn, As that is the lesser evil, against the peoples’ scorn, Of disdain for venturing outside the life they adorn, One of mundanity, any sliver of excitement shorn, Carefully ossified a life it is, the daily soulless yarn, One rigidity, away from which is my journey born.

A first run, a first lift, a spar, a poem, a long prose, Each step on a shaky crossing, the summit never close, Learning a wealth of new things, the soul in me grows, Even as the fatigue catches up, a body in throes, Every next step harder, as the headwind of age blows, With it, the despondency of losing out, strongly grows, But, for all that hurt, persevering ahead really shows, Within me at last, the child of joy once again arose.

Even as the naysaying flames were ever strongly fanned, Indeed, those who never stop trying are given a hand, Blessed with a few good souls that don’t let me strand, Sculpting a new bond, a new me, of stone and not sand, The shaky, rickety bridge, now becoming a familiar land, Treading blithely into a future which I never planned, One I am glad I decided I was not too old for, taking a stand, Onwards to the top, that reward called life I will make grand.