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Stories, lists, and essays that will tweak your mind and pinch your heart

The Feeling of Futility

All of us have or will come to a point when we feel that our efforts have become pointless. Our goals are closely looking like they want to remain mere dreams, and such dreams have become comfortable staying in our imaginations. Reality is not something they want to dip their foot into.

In this issue of S.D.R. (or Scroll Down and Read), I want to share with you a free verse poem I penned on 23rd of April year 2004. I wish that, in times when the feeling of futility comes, this work of literature would give the comfort and the wisdom that such condition is only a stage in your journey you just have to pass through.

running-man


You realize that what you are doing is futile

It does not mean anything to anyone...

...even to yourself.



To what purpose do you see the end of it all?

Has it come to the point when you feel no more?

And yet, you do not know what are feelings for.



So what kind of reality do you want to see?

You feel so useless, it has come to toil your glee

Your dreams have become visions of malady.



In all of these, you keep your hope alive

You still want your aspiration to get out of the hive

Because your guilt pushes you to run again with vive.



Photo credit:

Why are you running? Where are you going? c/o Pexels / unsplash.com/photos/BjcGdM-mjL0
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Job Applicants in Waiting

What makes applying for a new job difficult is, not so much the pressure of interviews and other screening procedures, but the tightness of the competition. If there are a lot of other applicants and they are all eyeing the same post, then such situation makes the application more overbearing than the usual.

Written on the 12th of September year 2002, here is a poem about queuing for a job interview. Enjoy the read and, if it pleases you, share your own experience of waiting in line for your turn during a job screening process. Express yourself in the comment section below.

we-are-hiring



Young men and women sit beside each other

The way they sit makes the benches sunder

Plastic chairs, each one has a man

Though some of them, instead, have a woman.



Waiting for the call from the office not beyond

The smiling faces make them greet anyone

Who comes out of the room they hope they could be in

As they ponder the question, "Will I be the one?"



Only time can tell,

And the ones on top as well

Will they be allowed to enter and be met

By those they call the Management?



Photo credit:

Job Hiring Signage c/o geralt / Pixabay
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