What if this is all there is?

What if this,
is all there is?
What if this..
is as good as it gets?
What if this is
as far, you were
meant to be;
And everything
that you ever
dreamed about
for the future,
were memories;
Being carried on
from a past life.
A past where,
you had it all.
A life where,
you made it all.
And yet you still,
wiped that slate..
clean;
Just for this!
Maybe you had
everything.
Everything,
but happiness.
Everything,
but satisfaction.
Just an empty,
dark void..
That you could
never manage to fill.
Maybe the purpose
of all your sorrows,
all your struggles,
all your happiness,
and all your
experiences;
Was to bring you..
Here.
Here,
in this present;
That you
so carelessly
discount for
being a lot less,
than it is.
This present,
that you never
fully learned to
appreciate; Because
you were always
too fixated about
filling that void.
The void that
cannot be fulfilled.
The void that robs you
of the present,
that is the present;
While keeping you chasing.
While keeping you running
after uncertain tomorrows,
as all your todays
Have come and gone.
Each one of them
having failed,
to satisfy you.
Wouldn’t you regret
not enjoying this,
a lot more?
Wouldn’t you regret
not living; while
you could have..
If you realise,
At the end
Of it all..
This,
was the best
you could have ever had?

© Jay Kaushal

Photo by Jay Kaushal

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The rain is my friend

…And the rain
Knocks on my window
Like friends pulling you
Out of your bed
On a Friday night
When you’re in bed early..
You’ve lost your job
Are too depressed
And broke
To want to drink
Or smile
Or even be able
to afford either
Even if you wanted to…

© Jay Kaushal

Image credits: http://www.pexels.com

New poems every Wednesday & Sunday..or anytime else inspiration strikes..

The girl in the subway

‘The girl in the subway’ is a poem about a homeless girl.

Beautiful dusty brown locks
Carelessly covering her pale cheeks.
Careful not to look needy.
Needing help, just as it is.

She sat shivering, crouching in the subway.
In just her hoodie and a jeans long past worn.
Rubbing her hands for warmth
As her breath froze in the cold Monday morning air.

People all scurrying past; to get
To where they all needed to be.
Not calling for any attention,
this young girl just stood out to me.

I paused to help but in two minds.
What could I do for her anyway?
She just looked liked a typical runaway.
She wasn’t asking for help or anything.
It was -4 outside and she just sat there,
Without a warm coat; shivering.

I walked over involuntarily, said hi.
Stretching out my hand not knowing why..
She looked up puzzled, unsure how to react
As she feebly shook my hand trying to smile back.

Do you need a cuppa dear? It’s awfully cold today.
A cuppa would be nice but maybe some other day.
Then a cigarette maybe? She nodded.
“Here take some.”
I held out the packet, she pulled out only one.

I lit one for myself crouching beside her.
Her hands were shivering it was hard to click the lighter.
She blew out some smoke as the ice between us broke.

“I’m Phil” I said to her.
She seemed lost; just looking away.
You must be getting late sir.
Don’t you have to start your day?
Oh I can go a little later it’s fine by me.
Tell me really; a sandwich and coffee?

A coffee would be nice but not today.
Thanks for the smoke, I’ll be alright.
Don’t worry, I’ll survive another day.

There was nothing more I could do here.
I got up to go on my way.

I’m Maggie she said looking right at me;
Her face wearing a smile wry.

You take care Maggie. See you again? Will I?

She nodded very slowly and said almost in pain.
I’m always here Phil.
I’m always here alone; But you won’t see me again.
You’ll be running past me next time, like always;
Like everybody else, hurrying to catch the train.

© Jay Kaushal

Inspired by Maggie’s Story by Stephen Black.

My dreams

‘My Dreams’ is a Shakespearean sonnet written in iambic pentameter and strict rhyme scheme with 3 quatrains culminating in a couplet.

If you do come searching for me friend,
You might find me waiting for you here.
If you but in search a stranger send,
I may choose to not reveal or care.

Like a phantom in the woods I’ll remain,
Evading all who search only to have me.
But I could plead my captor to refrain,
From hiding a man needed, if need be.

If you can follow, there is a trail,
I left it behind, through the far woods.
Only you can read others will but fail,
Just doubting the turns with ifs and coulds.

I my friend was once where you are.
I am now there, where my dreams are.

© Jay Kaushal

Photo location: Pushkar, Rajasthan, India.

Photo by: Jay Kaushal.

Play the odds

Keep walking.
Until you reach,
A better place.
Maybe not today
But, soon enough.

Keep searching.
You will find;
Your inner truth.
Maybe not easily,
But simply enough.

Keep dreaming.
You will realize;
Some, at least.
Maybe not all
Dreams, come true.

Keep trying,
Despite your failures.
Some will lead,
You; to success.
Maybe not all
Of them, but;
At least some,
If you try.

© Jay Kaushal

If you liked this poem, you will also enjoy reading another one of my motivational poems named Divine Intervention

This moment

This moment is gone,
Before it came,
Back to where;
It came from.
Like many others,
Before it,
Like many others,
That follow;
This moment,
Is finite.

What you can make,
This moment into;
And all the moments
To follow;
Has no connection,
With what you were;
Able or unable,
To do with,
All the moments;
That have gone by.

This moment is free,
From any judgement,
Of the future;
And all baggage
Of the past.
This moment just is;
And what you do
In this moment,
Is a power
Only you command.

© Jay Kaushal

Today and Tomorrow

Always feel like writing tomorrow.
Always instead, I write today.
Who knows anything about tomorrow?
I am still breathing today.
Tomorrow is a lot further,
than most choose to believe.
Tomorrow may not even come.
But today, is tomorrow’s reprieve.
If you can buy tomorrow,
with all the hours today;
it won’t matter whatever happens,
to tomorrow or day after;
Tomorrow, you’ll still have today.

© Jay Kaushal