I win...

I get up and its’ still dark…
Shadows of the past all around me…
I am trying to catch the shadows…
And the shadows trying to catch me…
Don’t know when this game started…
Don’t know when I became a part of it…
But its’ not just me who’s playing this game…
Its’ not just me who wants to win this game…
And there I see is the end of it…
‘coz there I see is the dawn…
the rays have pierced the dark…
taking me towards the morning…
taking me where I belong…
holding my hand and guiding me along…
and I finally I win the game…
‘coz the shadows are behind me…
and all ahead of me is light…

help me find this poem...:)

its' not once...not twice...but has happened more than often....where I just happened to surf the net...visiting sites, reading stuff...and came across poems that happened to be my favorties...and then I thought some of the poems that I read in my schooldays....one such is Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth that I read in my VI Std. and is one of my favorites....

Solitary Reaper

BEHOLD her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.


No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;—
I listen'd, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

There's one other poem called "Simon Snoot's Whiskers" that I had read in my VIII Std. and remember as one of the poems that made me understand what similies were!!! I have searched the net thoroughly for this poem but failed :( Anyone of you reading this if at all happens to find the poem "Simon Snoot's Whiskers"...do let me know!!

a nice Saturday...

I, me, myself....these words were getting onto my head for the past few days...I suddenly realized that since the day I have arrived here, its' me, my flight, my job, my manager, my work, my trips, my shopping...ain't that too much! its' just too much!!

I missed the days when I used to get down at Mumbai Central station and goto Victoria Memorial School to spend some time with the kids there...and come back feeling content that I have done something that goes beyond "me"...I cudn't find a chance to do anything similar here...and I wasn't very pleased about it...on top of it, I met people who were so self obsessed...obsessed about the appearance, the looks, not that its' something unusual...but at times it gets just too much! there so much to see, think, feel and ponder upon than just ourselves, our looks, our clothes...isn't it!! I just happened to get a chance to volunteer for this sports n' fest organized for disabled kids by a local newspaper...perfect timing for me...I needed something like this badly ... and after a long time I experienced that feeling of satisfaction like I used to have when I used to goto VMS...

When I came back home and thought about it...I happened to realize about feelings that are so universal...compassion, love, the happiness you get when u make a smile appear on someone's face...the sadness and helplessness you feel when you see people around you in pain and you can't do anything about it...except for being there...everything is beyond the race, caste, color, boundaries, nations, language...all the stuff that we have just made up for ourselves...the reason for which I still haven't understood...at the end of everything, its' only about lending a hand...passing a smile...empathise with the pain...share the happy n' sad moments...and feel satisfied...and isn't it ironical that I do all this 'coz it makes "me" feel good....