Torn and Broken

So I was hearing the mumble

of a stack of clothes

from the corner of an unvarnished,

older room, of my great grandparents.

All at once

I found them beguiling

and wanted to wear them out.

I stepped towards it,

to catch their talk.

One was weeping

and the other was in vex.

Remaining laid down dispassionate.

They had many stories to tell..

the same but of varying pain.

Stories of sore orgasms and of

bloody marks on bare breasts

of the body, once they bedecked.

Now they are torn apart,

no more could they adorn her.

May be she too is torn apart..

But I could find no figure of her.

Wonder who she is

and where she went..

My ancestral home

is numb now.

And I was searching for her..

Time has slipped from

seconds to hours

And still my ancestral home

is numb.

From the other corner,

a broken glass mirror

was laughing loud.

Now I stepped towards

the laughing glass mirror

who showed me

the figure, whom I was searching for.

Drooping blood from my

damaged lips taunted from

the shattered howling mirror.

A demented laugher from me,

cried out insanely, saying

I found her.

Image Credits: Pinterest


The wet eyes of white daisy,

looked at the morning sun,

who grinned to make those tears

fall-off as drops of dew..

And down from the meadow,

the dew twinkled, gazing at the

shy daisy who now beamed

with charming white petals..

All her coyness mirrored

in the glassy dew drop,

took the shape of daylight,

and flew back to the winsome sun.

The dew knew the hearts,

heeded the sun and the daisy,

yearned for their merging, and laid

on the meadow, with a glancing blow.

Dawn slipped away the sky,

paving her way to more sunbeams,

those peeped into the soul

of the dewdrop, melting her away..

And now the dew faded

from the grassy meadow,

leaving the daisy, in hope of

filling her eyes in the next dawn..

Image Credits: Google

I Killed You

Slept, under the darkest sky,

I was strolling down in a sublime dream,

where I killed you.

I killed you,

And I was laughing.

I was laughing,

that I could burn your toxic frame

into ashes, from which

no more venomous lover would ever come.

I killed you,

And I smiled, thinking

of the meaningless,

emotionless words that you gifted me.

Those words.. I need no more

for what I killed you.

And from me,

take no more poetry,

for it belongs to one who have soul.

But this, you should take,

as a leftover cigarette,

that would still burn

in your ashtray,

letting those cigar ashes

recall my poetry.

I killed you,

burnt you to ashes..

And now, from the ashes,

you can’t mock me,

for being too emotional,

for being a withdrawn poet

And for all what I am.

Into a void, i have pushed you aside

as a heartless, soulless corpse of anonymity

for whom, i wait no more

with all my love poems.

Image Credits: Pinterest


Out of a cataclysmic smoke,

arouse a raven

of treacherous sins.

Flipped his wings

loud into the sky

And made a throatier

deeper call,

to quench the thirst

for dark blood

of savage dogs.

No croaking call

came in return.

Before the inevitable destiny,

the raven stood alone

losing all the accomplices.

His shrivelled throat

could no longer

bear the echo

of his own piercing call.

Crowds were running scared,

calling him, the bird of ill-omen.

The raven shuddered

his achy wings

And flew away

to the shore

of a calamitous sea

where people were

clasping their hands,

calling out the crows

to take away

the ancestor offerings.

The raven carefully,

uncaught their sights

And then,

leaped into the fire

of regretful flames.

The smoky wind

revolved around

his flickering wings,

burning on the funeral pyre.

Image Credits: Pinterest

Unsolicited Love

Lost among the stars of mourning nights,

I was an absent child in an active world.

Deliberately shrinked into a violet flower,

never ever have I thought of unveiling

my petals for the love of a tender wind.

But it happened.

An unsought gentle touch..

All my efforts not to fall in love

crushed into pieces of monotony.

Little by little

my unspoken words found its meaning

and little by little

I started loving him.

I remember a balmy evening

where he waited for me

under the red gulmohar tree.

I was quite.

His candid talks always

did fascinated my reticent soul.

His great calm eyes

were floating in depths

of untold riddles..

I was still quite.

With his eyes,

he told me, we’ll meet later.

Then moved away

from my eyesight, to somewhere

still unknown.

Unsolicited was my love..

And unsolicited was his goodbye.

I no more go near the gulmohar tree

where his memories lay fallen

as the withered red gulmohar flowers..

Image Credits: Instagram, @maitreyamaitreyan

My Sad Lily Flower

I was kind enough

not to pluck off

the ignored blue lily

from my flawless garden.

Blue, with stains of white

unfurled a woeful face,

dangled with frail petals.

Those eyes, that blinked

and drizzled,

reminded me of the

pale, unrequited love,

once I had.

It was long ago.

A melacholical tone

came behind a vicious gale.

And the blue lily

was about to dwintle

into a petal-less,

even more drooped

thread of gray roots.

Roots, which were about to die..

I wish she had wings

instead of petals,

that she could

leave the roots behind

and fly off

from a desperate land.

Her invisible fallen hairs

were dancing with

the singing of a spooky bird.

Moon has lit the lamp

And my lily flower

turned more gloomy.

The sombre rhythm

of dark wind,

slightly touched her

soft little petals.

And in that single pat,

my sad lily flower

withered her seemingly

feeble, but immensely

hefty petals into the

painless coral crust.

And the gray roots

now stashed away

to the mantle

deeper and deeper..

Image Credits: Google

I Stood Blank

With a handful of metaphors,

as the only possessions after

a long three year old

devour of literature,

I stood blank before

a bare paper, with

a futile, but partially filled

ink pen, that stained

throbbing ink upon my face.

Taken aback, I found

the so-called patient paper,

sighing at me

hiding a spasm of laugher, I guess.

It cannot be blamed-

I sighed now

but with a sanity out of

ultimate despair, I sighed.. I must say.

My fingers are still,

not letting the words free

from the detention of

my pointless ink pen.

My throat is sour,

swamped with precious letters

that would weave a poetry

for me, if allowed.. only if allowed.

Bone-tired, my galaxy of fantasies

upsurged, to let the words

and letters flow out of the cosmos.

In the end,

I vigorously did waffled

some ignoble feelings,

taken out of

my grandma’s old clay pot.

Nothing more could I snatch

from the very worn out

memory notepads.

And then, all I could do

was to stand empty,

and stare at the still

naked paper that mocks.

Image Credits: Google

That Oceanic Wave

I am the colourless pebble,

lying on the vast shore of life

Look at me or pry me

for you can see how brittle I am

Over years, I have been here

in this shingle shore, lonely and sulky

My soft outwear now has marks of

contiguity with rocks and stones

Nevertheless, I went forth, being

an enigma to the sea and to the shore

And today, I am stuck here

not knowing how far should I go

I am the colourless pebble,

And around me, lay the creepy shells

those with their funky looks

trying to knock me off from the shore

Kneeling down before them,

And to stow away my dreams

is not for what, I have stayed

in this shore, this long, this late

Hope, like a newly bloomed seaflower

endure me, and one day, I hope

the coming of that oceanic wave

to colour me with its lustrous wavelets

I am the colourless pebble,

waiting for that Oceanic wave

without any fatigue, without any drag

But, with an endless ocean of dreams..

Image Credits: Google