Poem: Insta Battle


I’ve spent hours fighting with Instagram,
A battle that felt like a marathon.
But in the end, we got there eventually,
Though the victory wasn’t quite heavenly.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

I’ve tried every trick in the book,
Hoping for that perfect look.
But the algorithm had its own plan,
And I struggled to understand.

Likes and followers, comments too,
It all felt like deja vu.
But I kept fighting, never giving in,
Despite the chaos and the din.

Finally, I got a glimmer of hope,
Like a tiny buoy that helps you cope.
The algorithm suddenly seemed to relent,
And my Instagram account got a revamp.


The Unexpected Visitor.


There came a knock upon my door
But none of my friends had come before
When I opened it up, to my surprise
There was a crow, with shining eyes!

It perched upon my windowsill
Its voice so loud, it made me thrill
“Can I come in?” the crow did ask
As I stared back, fulfilling its task

I nodded my head, in disbelief
And found myself in utter relief
The crow flapped its wings, and came inside
And to my surprise, it didn’t hide

On the table it sat, without a care
Feeding on crumbs, without any fare
And when it saw, I was watching it there
It looked at me, without any scare

It cawed and croaked, then flew away
But it had made my heart’s day
For I’ll never forget, that curious crow
That came knocking on my door, you know!

Why oh why is packaging so awkward..

Photo by Kampus Production on Pexels.com

Why oh why is packaging so awkward to undo,
It’s like a puzzle that we must construe,
The plastic wrap is stubborn and tight,
And opening it fills us with fright.

The cardboard seems to be glued in place,
Making us struggle and strain with our face,
We grab scissors and knives to cut through,
But end up with wounds and bruises anew.

Why can’t they make it simple and easy,
Opening it without feeling queasy,
It’s as if the packaging is playing a game,
To see how long it can cause us such a shame.


So next time we buy a package with care,
We’ll hope and pray it’s easy to tear,
If not, we’ll take a deep breath and sigh,
And remember that packaging will always make us wonder why.

Poem: Broken Wheelchair.


My wheelchair is broken, it’s out of commission
I can’t get around, and it’s causing frustration
I need it to move, to get from point A to B
But now I’m stuck, and it’s just not easy

I can’t roll down the hall, or explore the outdoors
My mobility’s limited, and it’s really a bore
I’m missing out on so much, it’s really not fair
My broken wheelchair is causing me despair

I called up the repairman, but he’s booked for days
So in the meantime, I’m stuck in a daze
But I won’t give up, I’ll stay strong and persist
I’ll find a solution, I won’t be dismissed

So here’s to my broken wheelchair, to this little setback
I’ll rise above it, I won’t be held back
I’ll keep pushing forward, through thick and thin
My mobility won’t be stopped, I’ll always win.

wheelchair all alone in big room.
Photo by Patrick De Boeck on Pexels.com