I love to write, but, no time, I could sight, To save time, I fight, As, I miss many poetry site, for me no delight, I pray during day and night, using my right to write is never at all right.


Time is Gold and I Grow Old

When time is inadequate
We can call it only as fate
What we feel, we can't state
Such a state, I totally hate

I must go to office to serve
So that salary I deserve
I must work with verve
My skill, I must preserve

Salary, my bank is giving
So that I am happily living
Into duty, i must do diving
For enjoying a fine thriving

I have limited time for poetry
I can't write by being carefree
Via a good poetic delivery
I must give help like a tree

I must do banking as a duty
As it gives me dignity is society
Though I have a poetic ability
It gives me no financial stability

I may do the best thinking
But, I must do good banking
My bank I am deeply thanking
As in poverty, I am not sinking

I may do any kind of activity
To prove my great loyalty
I can't call it as cruelty
As reward is damn pretty

None in my bank sees my talent
I mean, the poems, that I invent
Odd duties that are unpleasant
I must do and I mustn't repent

Two more years to reach sixty
Then free time will be plenty
Pension will come as a royalty
Enough time will make life pretty

Two years will soon fly away
For my retirement in a fine way
My prayers to God I now convey
Forever to God I will always pray.

mvvenkataraman











Poetry by mvvenkataraman
Read 199 times
Written on 2017-05-03 at 16:20

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