About success against all odds

My thoughts invariably perverse

I even mock at the venerated Gods

For all their salacious thoughts

And their indifference for the plight

Of many sleeping on an empty stomach at night

I’m an ancient mariner

Weathered many a storm and gales

Hand me over a glass full of ale

Will tell many tales of mermaids and whales

Sharks, shipwrecks and spooky creeks

Full of thrills to every listener

Rainbows I always chased

Pirates I fought with swords

Waltzed my way through the Milky Way

Shooting the sun and stars when required

Asking them to show me my way

Caught by the tail the shooting stars

More the ale in my glass

My tales get spicier with treasure chests

And damsels in distress on far off islands

Could never be even half a bard

Although tried and tried very hard

Only to become bland and bald

For I am just a born jester

And my forte is humour

Always try to be subtle

Not letting any hairs ruffle

Success I never tasted

Despite fighting the well stacked odds

With all the weapons that I possessed

And waged a continues battle

Only to find myself often castled

And stumps uprooted.

Blade no wide, my bat

Served only to let the ball go past

On its way to my ruin and others’ win.

God often served googlies and flippers

When I expected strait deliveries

Failure became my constant companion

To make me forever complain

To someone hitherto unknown

And not treat me with disdain

Hope He hears and refrains

From dumping more failures

On my overburdened back

Laden with failures sack

He the unknown bestowed at last

Some friends thick and fast

Who constantly wish me well

Raise my hopes and fill my glass full.

To drink a toast for the health of my host

Words alone cannot dispel the gloom

And the impending doom

I see flowers in plenty all around

But not even one makes a sound

Even when in full bloom.

Remain muted like unforgiving angels.

All I can put in verse

Are comments in jest and adverse

Thoughts that once were positive

Now souring and turning negative

Making it hard to survive

Amongst friends who thrive

On their lovely poetic sense.

Hoping for the day

Of my day in sun

And my place in fun

A bit of name and fame

That may last only for a day

For I heard and believe

A day’s life with fame

Is worth an age without name.

It is time to thank subbu

Who constantly scrubs and rubs

To instil hope

And courage to fight the odds

For he is a noble soul

And steadfast friend to one and all.