Workaholic With Passion! - Poem by Geetha Jayakumar
I am not praising you,
With any unwanted words.
Whatever I come across,
I just write in few words.
My pen cannot remain idle,
It just feel like writing down few verses, which I cannot tell on ones face directly.
He is a man with a passion for his work, so dedicated to his work.
With flattery words one cannot win him ever.
Send him birthday wishes, he will never love.
But with what dedication you do the work, only pleases him ever.
There cannot be any explanations for the excuses if any.
Just in plain words speak the truth.
His eyes are too sharp to judge you perfectly.
His memory is too sharp and
Blessed with great sense of humor.
Shaking hands meeting eyes to eyes,
His eyes speak of boldness.
Blended with beautiful qualities of,
Self Disciplined and inner strength.
He can sail through any storms,
which he had proved many times.
His strictness may not be liked,
as a man of disciplines.
He is a man full of life and charms.
A man, who has the courage to do the right thing.
But I will never tell,
Who you are.
I love to praise the qualities,
Whatever my eyes see,
What ever I hear,
For I know the person.
It's the plain truth I am writing,
Regarding him in my verse.
He may not read my verses,
so boldly I can write regarding him.
If someone asks who is he,
For, I will never tell.
For it can be you
or anyone who comes with
these qualities ever.
I have never seen a man, just took few hours of leave for his surgery.
Surprise it was that he directly he went to office the moment he was discharged.
So dedicated to work.
All I can tell is,
He is a rare person with so many qualities I have ever met.
Yes, I do respect him and his qualities, which he owns.
He is a unique man of rare with lots of achievements.
God Bless Him with best of health and happiness always!
Comments about Workaholic With Passion! by Geetha Jayakumar
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye