Perfectly Imperfect Poem by Sachidananda Panda

There is a breakneck competition
To be decorated as good or great
With some self maneuvered projected traits
Synchronous moves are made asynchronous
Could be a pestering proclivity to look different
Illusory cold reasoning is artfully interwoven
To show moles as hills, helped by some hired skills
Little achievements turn insanely intoxicating
In a run-up to peripheral heights
They dwindle between symmetry and asymmetry
Unwittingly confused by amplified magnanimity
In quest for perfection they lose their mental sanity

To sooth the ruffled feathers otherwise
They paint plants as trees to suit their desired needs
Find Gangasiuli in summer or winter shown as spring
The vexed persona stifles in quest for perfection
They nourish eulogy as an inert obsession
Prefer to Remain inebriated with fancied flattery
Thin skins are hypersensitive to sound criticism.
To contrast or compare is an everyday affair
Find pleasure in volitional intimidation
Agog to flaunt their blagged accumulation
Let's say..! They are the monuments of perfection

If you don't meet their egos right
Poisonous canines are ready to bark and bite
Perhaps vengeance is the only language they know
Unsecured to the core and are cold aggressors though
It's wise to take divergent rout from jettisoned pest
Else you are axed early if found good and straight
These superior gens dislike judicious suggestion
To chastise you they need no sound reason
Premises could be often an imaginary one
A whim, a fancy, or for some feverish plan
This may sound a little aberrant vexation
I must say..! They are epitomes of perfection

It makes no sense to be in the competition
Since every imperfection is unique on its own
If you wish call me a mad or a crazy maverick
I am comfortable with the carping adjective
It makes no difference to count the fallen leaves
Or the buds to blossom at some distant trees
Let the leaves sulkily sway in the southern blow
Let it regain its natural flavor and pleasant glow
When I know as human and a sojourner mortal
Inflicted wounds that are grey, green or fatal
Seldom makes any erroneous impression
It's all right..! To be a felicitous imperfection

All the aberrations do carry a Divine kinship
Am honoured to celebrate the providential gift
Favonian Winds too have its own slice of woes
Staring eyes do have some lurid compulsions
Despite the wounds it keeps on a scurry move
Looks for the hive and to thrive in a leafy groove
Despite the preying eyes or the primitive grin
Can a desire to breathe free be an inexorable crime?
Prefer not to paint a treacherous smile for a win
Never felt the need to bury the Whips of time
Each stretch mark do tell a recurrent story
Every scar wrought on it is an open library
It makes no difference if fingers are burnt or broken
Am not crazy to run after such maddening competition
As I know all that happen, happen by the grace reverent
My imperfections too are ‘His' apt arrangements
Nothing to worry and never to detest the benison
Am happy and proud to celebrate all my Imperfection

©sachi9th March.2019