Memoirs of XI F1

I had written one this poem, rather a collection of thoughts, when I was half asleep in class XI just catching a word on two. When I found it, I decided to call it Memoirs of XI F1, marked by its high discontinuity.

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Memoirs of XI F1

A friend is but an arch
Who lends himself as a branch
To support one and all
When rough terrain befall.

Rare enough are those
Who feel they ought to let loose
Their precious little lives
Most of whom are reportedly wives

Who are either suppressed
Or demented and depressed.
Quite true, quips the economist
Who has the budget list
And finds a fitting analogue
In the market as dead as a log.

All are alike, says the philosopher
No two are alike, says the biology teacher
These petty differences do matter
In a world that does all but cater
To the need of a blissful character
Who expects everything on a silver platter.

A friend may be better
In his childhood chapter
Often a lovely smile
Would be embedded forever
In his memory file
Which streaks past some hour

Down memory lane he goes
Against hope he hopes
And with a spurt
Makes a frantic effort
To bypass time
Which may not be fine.

Suddenly he wakes up to find
The teacher trying to grind
Into the students' mind
That virtual and real are of different kind
And grins, blinking
About how impractical is his thinking.

This is indeed loneliness
That creeps up during adolescence
Which is tough to be shooed away
Without a friend in the fray.

Those who are your friends
Needn't follow the same trends
Unity in diversity
Has its own attractivity.

Widen your friends' circle,
Not a square or a rectangle
Extend in all directions
Without any restrictions
Also maybe that symmetry
Has its own beauty.

Restrictions posed on friendship
Is like laws imposed in a township
Percentage yield is very low
And would indeed be a blow

To the very meaning of friendship
Like the following usage of the word ship
Ship abroad has its correctness
Ship in or the like exposes absurdness.

It is like a ship that carries one to safety
In times of utter distress
Good ones of both wont sink or become empty
For one to ever redress

It is like a flower
It has that enchanting fragrance
It is like a punchbag
That takes terrible blows
But returns back just the same.

It is like a speedbraker
That gently puts a brake
On the meaningless endless race in life.
It is like a blackhole
That takes in everything
But doesn't boast of itself.

Life without a friend is like a soap bubble
Characteristic of a big void
It is like the sun
Glorious from a distance but hostile within

It is like 'kaatu malli' flower
Serene yet unimpressive
It is like an actor
Without an audience

It is like a charmer
Without a snake
It is like a computer
Without a chip

It is like a body
Without a brain
Life without a friend is one thing
Without everything else !

Random Access
The search has just begun !!! (for finding a true friend)

Mar 1998