Another poem~

The bolt bangs in

    The list read aloud

           Name mounted in number#22 

like files on government tables...

        makes my guts queasy

                  The burning begins....

The rays from the gold-orb

              cracking through

    the gobbets of puffy clouds

          waft into the room

                  claw at my face

          Licking dry lips 

    I try to absorb

     the splendor of the lounge

             and drift slowly, dreaming

Waiting to be interviewed is a

             test by itself...

The room settles like a shroud 

              air stiff and still....

  With century passing with every second

                   ...the muse blazes- it is the light! 

   I shut my eyes and try to think
          "What do I want to become?"
'O, does it matter what I want....
....fate will be the one to decide in the end.'
My fingers sweep over my tab
   itchy fingers do their web-dance
            I let them waltz...
   And there! Another poetry
    for panchalibolchi!

 
 You can either succumb to the fear or be nervous during an interview, or you can channel that fear and convert it into something motivational.. Well, sometimes I write out of internal necessity...:)

Linked with:  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.in/2014/10/poetry-pantry-223.html