Tag Archives: poetry


it has been years since
you have sailed away to
bluer waters and greener
but I still find myself sitting
at the shores where we used
to talk about nothing and
everything, still
hoping that after all this mess
you’d come back, your ship
breaking the monotony of
the gradient of the sea and


On Myself

I never thought that days would turn to nights
And nights to days to months to years and
Nothing, I think, nothing accomplished –
“Is studying everything there is to life?” I ponder,
Sitting on chair, I put hand to chin and wonder.
Something does not seem right –
Time flies, and the future is not as bright.
“Rest has no place here,” they all say,
“Everyone who did has been put away.”
So I put on my earphones and played
Stringed symphonies till their voices have gone away –
Even God rested on the seventh day.
“Do have fun – everything will be okay,” I whisper.


wait. wait for her, they said. she will bring color to your existence.

wait. they would regale me with stories of turtles and hares, friends that met each other after years, and lovers rewarded for their fortitude.

I would smile, wondering whether my dark eyes betrayed me – can anyone see through this desperate facade?

a story begs to be told –

they told me she would come.
she already came.

they told me she would bring color.
my life was a rainbow since I saw her.

they told me that she would be the light.
my life was radiant as the midday sun.

they never told me this –
that fires did die
and rainbows dissipate into thin air.

they would never know that prayers and patience could never dig through seven feet of rocky earth
nor could they bring back to life memories that brought me joy.

The Greatest Magician

He is the greatest magician –
He made coins, cards, and towers disappear
From sight. Through abracadabras and waved hands
Dimes, decks, and concrete returned to where they must.

The greatest trick he attempted had him
Losing her in a sea of words and gestures.
She vanished. Everything reappears after a while.
But she did not. She slipped through like water in one’s hands.
Nothing helped, not even elephants in the room that begged to be talked about.

9/10/15 (Stories)

we would stretch stories
until they covered day and night,
until the daylight in our eyes told us
that it was time for weary, reluctant sleep.

no topic was too mundane; we never found the other to be lacking in the depth department. never did half-baked, see-through
excuses to escape crossed our minds –
we only left when the other closed their eyes too soon.

one day, the discourse was about the future; she wanted to be an apologist for the wronged in a court of law. in the silence
between the keys I could not muster a reply, save that it has always been my desire
to spend it with her
to be with her
and nobody else.
the keys click-clacked almost as fast
as the beating in my chest.