Brushing past aside
scurrying along with mighty stride
People walk, walk past me,
and I like an ancient tree
watch them come and go.
No I ain't a tree, or a light pole
I am a man, a man with a pocket hole
The kinda guy who does nothing for a living
Tom who never works, coz he's only playin'
I play with words, too many.
I nip and bind words, in rhythm and rhyme
to suit every moment, every theme and thyme
I kneel at the behest of rivers, that gently flow
and with a sudden burst, pearls of words aglow
within me is a world, about which no one knows.
No I ain't got a salary
and it isn't a mark of chivalry
What if I were paid,
what difference would it make?
Unsociability was ne'er a common trait.
My work is my religion
boundless, my art has no region
to promote protect or enslave
I belong to the artist's conclave
We wanderers have no job but lust for words.
As long you are working on something you love, you are not just working; far better and be glad that you are actually living while creating something that you are happy and proud of. It's the best way and only way to live. On a personal note, even though my PG was in a different specialization, I came out and started working in my present field, because I have a certain love for writing. And I am happy for it. As long as you are working on something that makes you happy and it pays you decent, be happy. And when your passion, natural talent, and the economic consideration is just rightly aligned, you'll always be a success. And riches will follow you too. Good Luck.
ReplyDeleteplaying with words...and following the path whichever I feel like moving on...thats among some of my hobbies... :P
ReplyDeleteloved the lines...
"My work is my religion
boundless, my art has no region
to promote protect or enslave
I belong to the artist's conclave"
amazing composition Priyanka...keep scribbling... :)
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Cynosure