Appraisal time cometh—will you toot your horn?

It’s that time of the year when you try to bell the cat—get yourself pegged across the curves of a bell, to be more precise.

From the pop-artist, Peter Blake 

Why should I blow the horn, even if I’m musically inclined
Why should I bluff the guff—no, my gift of the gab does not render me obliged

Odd antics, feathers aflutter, vulgar displays beckon nary an invite
If my work speaks louder than words, I care not for embellishments to fight

For if your supervisor fails to appreciate your work, and your worth, that’s dereliction of duty too
Rewarding braggarts and fluff instead—O' what the corporate world has come to

Yes, I am musically inclined, but tootin’ my horn is not my creed
You see, I heard Diddley as a kid, he’s taught me well how to read

I have a good mind to work toward instilling a labor law statute that absolves individuals from participating in annual appraisals, making it a matter of choice.

-- Penned on April 6, 2017, while seeing my colleagues abuzz filling their appraisal forms. Wondering if people can guess the song the last line alludes to.

Empty chairs and empty desks

It’s always sad to see a dear colleague leave. Here’s an ode from the stationary stationery on the departure of their transient owners. Dedicated to Nidhi Vikram Choudhury.

Empty chairs and empty desks

Light and free, yet heavy with gloom
O’ the irony of not bearing any bloom

Do I miss you, or do I miss the work you dispensed
'Tis only a matter of time, someone new will get commenced

Fickle as ever, cast in stone my owner never shall be
One day, you see, even your body will be emptied and free

Empty chairs and empty desks, emptied of their transient soul
Fill they will, sooner or later, but that’s never been the goal

For there are things that will never be emptied of the loving warmth of your heart of pure gold 
The bleeding hearts you left behind, forlorn in remembrance, will never be emptied, they’ll never grow cold