The loneliness spiral

Why does everyone have a thousand gardens

While I’m still stuck with a stone?

Why does the world laugh and dance in the sunshine

While I’m chased by the shadows alone?

Why does everyone have a shoulder to cry on

While I drown in tears of my own?

Why does everyone wear a garment of constellations

While I’m adorned with a thorn-filled crown?

Please tell me why I can’t even get up

While you wake up in the morning and see hope?

Why do you remind me of a hundred blessings

When counting curses is the mantra of my soul?

Why is my body unmotivated, worthless my mind

My feelings all helpless in this desolated void?

Why does everyone have a thousand gardens

While I’m still stuck with a stone?


Finding me

Dear friend, don’t be blind,

To go forward, you must look behind.

These curtains around me, forever misleading

I’m trying to get out, my hands are bleeding.

The walls around me set to cement

by others ideas and perceptions,

My persona, just a mask, a pretty present,

I can’t even find my own expressions.

I would love you to know me

As who I am.

Break the shackles and set me free,

Climb out of this mess that restricts me,

Set my own standards of modesty,

Find my own true identity.

Lessons From A Chatbox Bling

Like the words out of a storyteller’s mouth,

Like the vibrant butterfly fluttering about,

She came into my otherwise normal life,

Captivated was I , slowly, steadily forgot my strife.

Made out of strength and exuberance,

Unpredictable but reflecting a little child’s innocence,

With her my conversations never ceased,

Engaging me with her every word and deed.

I didn’t realize the effect she had on me,

Didn’t notice the reality she stole from me,

Until one day, habitually typing, typing fast,

Entered with a bang, my mom looking aghast,

Her eyes so cold I dropped the phone,

She shouted, her voice a traumatizing tone,

“Who is she taking all your time away? “

A friend of mine I wanted to say,

A few more shouts and dead silence passed,

My replies were all in my head amassed.

“Look at yourself, at what you’ve become,

Maybe it’s time you listened to mum.”

I stared at her in repugnance,

All I wanted was acceptance.

She grabbed my phone, never gave it back,

I ran from home, never bothered to pack.

Fifteen years down the lane,

 I still think about that day with pain,

Precious days and years of mine wasted,

Chasing a dream that never existed.

If only I had chosen to stay

and lived my life according to my way,

for happiness lies in finding our soul.

Well isn’t it our life’s only goal?


“ The words that enlighten the soul are more precious than jewels.”- Hazrat Inayat Khan



We are made of the same thing,

Yet the world views us differently,

Is it because we are more than the sum of our parts,

Or has the world failed to see our equal parts?




Ask me anything and I shall give,

It is my promise to you,

But I shall take from you too,

It is my promise to myself.



Staying still,

Life whizzing past,

Wanna move,

And not just last.


It’s  time…


Calling me a thousand times,

Reminding me it’s time to go,

To move on,

With the ashes of past safely sealed,

Not even visible in the corner of my eye,

A new beginning,

Taking with me the freshness of morning dew,

The fragrance of life, not the smell of you,

Each step a skip, each step a mile,

No crying said the soul, only smile.



When you left without a goodbye,

Without your typical wink that used to make me shy,

Oh I didn’t realize,

That you a long time ago,

Came as a guest into my fortress,

I let you in,

Treated you as an equal,

Gave you everything I could ever give,

You stayed for so long dear,

And when you decided to go,

Oh I didn’t realize,

That you a long time ago,

Came as a guest into my fortress,

I let you in,

Even though you are gone,

Oh now do I realize,

You can never leave

Until I let you out,

And I let you out.





Do I mind when you call me ‘short’?

No, I can see myself in the mirror everyday

Thanks, I know,

Do I mind when you call me ‘dark’?

No, try living in the place I live in and bark,

Do I mind when you call me ‘fat’?

No, I know it from my butt print

set so deeply on the chair I just sat,

But I do mind the fact

that you keep reminding me these things daily,

that you keep suggesting ways to change me,

that you forever want to fit me into an outline,

but I honestly don’t care,

good luck trying to fit the ocean into a bottle.



It’s true that piece of  paper can make a good fire.

The flame that begins like a spark within me expressing its fury at being suppressed for so long, the pressure rising, craving for a piece of time, a piece of attention, a glance, an appreciation. The swirl of thoughts that break the shackles of reason and logic, speaking to me in a language I can only understand, the language of emotions. That is true fire. The fire of poetry.

This blog is the unhindered expression of my emotions which have taken the form of poetry.

Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance – Carl Sandburg