Tag: poem


What is it about you?
What is it about you, sunset?

Every time under your warm shade
A forgotten question goes answered
All that is lost
All that is about to go
Seems so trivial under your might

What is it about you, sunset?
For, you are a poem
A moment of realisation
You come from the endless mumbling thoughts within
From the ultimate abyss of
For, you are a tear
A silent cry
A painful journey.
You are the end
And you are the beginning.

What is it about you, sunset?
For, it has been a while,
since I felt so alive 

What is it about you?
That makes me realise
Of a life less lived
Every time.


Life, right now.

I am busy again.
Chop. Chop. Tick. Tick.
Work work.
Lets – get – it
Done. Done.

It was day when I left
and I haven’t looked out my window since.
Its already night fall
Past 9.
What a life.
I have none, they say.
I like it.
I like it.
Chop chop. Some more.
A little more. Lets get it.
Done. done.

Tick. Tick.
I sit.
Staring at the screen,
the blue light that its emanating.
All my world,
the meaning, the comprehension,
the joke and the leisure.
Its all here.
And I can see it,
through this blue light that’s emanating.

No. no.
That wasn’t the point of it all.
Was it?

Chop –
No. Wait. Stop!
I don’t want to chop anymore.
Do I?
Don’t I?
Adrenaline rushing.
Click. Click.
Happy – sad?
Don’t know. Don’t know.
Shhhh. I wanna think.
I think?


Tick. Tick.


Fuck it.
I am busy again.
Chop, chop.
Tick. Tick.
Lets get it.
Done. done.

In the deep tresses of my mind

In the deep tresses of my mind,
I scream for a let out.
I scream for a door
in a room full of colorful windows.

In the deep tresses of my mind,
I loathe this dreadfully, pragmatic life.
The dawn beneath my curtains,
this blue world promising me its light.

I rush back in my head,
to years of childhood that are far left behind.
I weep for the grasses untouched,
and feelings forgotten in my mind.

I beg for my freedom.
I beg for a life more accustomed to regrets
than the meaningless applauses,
made for a night.

In the deep tresses of my mind,
I wish for a life lived again-
with less fear in my heart to begin,
and within, a burning fire until the end.

A free world?

Its a free world they say.
A much better world than what it used to be.
They had regulated television
and we have the freedom of internet.
Their sedition was crime.
Ours is anonymity.

Its a free world and yet not, they say.
We are loud and clear
so why are we not heard, they ask.
Change the subject, they say.
Distract with terms and decorated faces,
that mean nothing and yet our attention is theirs.

Who am I to crib, I wonder.
So many things waiting to be sketched from words
and yet no courage to spill the paint.
The voice is afraid
and so the change is yet to come.
They say. They say and they say.
And I put a stop to this.
My pen, my sword thumps on the ground
with a thud not so loud.
And I weep, weep without tears of hopelessness
but foreseeing the tragedy of the inevitable end.

I chose quiet.
Quieter than I thought I would be.
Only words that sum up
and have no meaning stay.
So, how does it matter
if I said something over nothing at all.
The uncanny chains remain the same.

The new beginning

‘Its gonna be fine’
I told myself.
Like Aamir Khan consoled himself
‘All is well’?
Its gonna be all fine.
I told myself.

‘Are you going to leave again?’
My heart asked.
Yes. Yes, please.
I need to, don’t I?
‘But you will be a wreck again!’
I know, I know!
But, it doesn’t feel right.
Not any more. Not any more.

‘Have you tried letting go of your ego yet?’
Yes, I did. Didn’t I?
Not all the way though.
Not this time.
No, not this time.

‘How do you manage to inflict so much pain upon yourself?’

I wish it didn’t hurt so much.
I wish it was easier like it should be.
Such a blessed life with no worries, no problems to flee.
And yet, so much desperation, so much self inflicted pain to deal with.
I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.

‘Are you gonna be fine?’

Aren’t you gonna be there for me?

‘Yes.. Yes, ofcourse I am. Ofcourse I am..’

And we walked away.
Very slowly,
‘cos there’s no hurry.

Still, steady and all that throbs.

And there goes a dream,
a child’s fantasy of a fairy tale
and the perfect ending.
How would I have known that it was only a chapter.
Regret and sorrows all drying
in forlorn branches of wisdom and lore
I wonder what all is left
for this tiny hyper heart to implore.

Somehow its living
and yet its not.
This constant. Oh, this constant.
and yet not knowing what’s really alive.
Left, right, top, bottom,
diagonally aligned? Is it? My heart?
No. No.
Its all in the centre.
Oh, so steady.
I like it here.
I like it here?

Is it an ending
or a blank page before a new beginning?
Maybe its that chapter that I did not expect to come
but has already begun.


There is no calm, there is no peace.
My poems –
just restless afterthoughts.
Is it the withdrawal symptom of a changing weather,
maybe after a day or two,
my heart will find its mystical ease.

I wish it was effortless,
To be so many and not just one.
A tiny bit taken from all good souls,
understanding deeply the core of my own.
But I am so restless,
even tears need reasons to implore.

What a blithe cry of melancholy again,
the emptiness of being, creeping on my mattress again.
Go away, I beg.
The good souls need to do what they do the best.
I will pray for a little longer,
in a hope to silence the devil in my head.