Words go in hibernation
They hide deep where
Nothing can seep, we search,
Seek, ***** even probe
To utter dismay.
Why do they do this?
I think it’s so
Their potency is intact
Especially in the face of abuse,
Misuse and overuse.

A few months I haven't called him

At the beck and call at any hour
And the shortest notice
A dial to him has saved many an emergency

Last night a broken female voice
On the other side of the wire
Mumbled he died on May 13

Left her with three daughters
At forty at short notice

The plumber is dead

Now who would clear
My choked wash basin

The plumber is dead
And I've no other number to call

I couldn't see her face
Gauge the faceless sorrow
At the other side of the wire

The plumber is dead

I must find another
And then rejoice
Forgetting the widow's choked voice

His last piece of work I touch everyday
and feel not the water but sadness
flowing from the faucet.

From the sound of the sink
I hear him say
didn't I do a good job?
not once broke down
but think of her
she's broken down
the faucet has withstood
she hasn't
there I did a bad job
letting water flow down
the broken valves of her heart.

We were born to a life
We did not choose
yet
We have the right to choose the life we want

Experiences we gain
Received hands down ,
Some sought
Some pleasant
Some not
Letting us learn
What is right what is not

A few wrongs
Cannot make a right turn
Wrong
There would be someone who would want to correct
The turn left .....
Would have been right

Choose wise
Blessed with instincts
Choose what is your right
Rest assured its the destiny and destination
Which awaits
Of all the decisions you took