A poem for everyone

Ever looked at someone and thought, is this what poetry in motion is?!Because I do think that sometimes, like right now, sitting here while my mind is dwelling in the vast sea of profound memories of all the people I have come across and I am realising all of them were beautiful in a way… Continue reading A poem for everyone

Hope

It’s raining almost every second day,and I’m learning to bloom from the earth,From life less branches to bed of dead leaves,something inside of me is telling me to know my worth. Sun is always shining over mountainsstill, there is this darkness in the woods,dripping down the lifeless branchesin a way only hope could. My mind… Continue reading Hope

Broken Sunset

Once I met a broken sunset stunning in pink and beautifully alone, He was tip toe-ing through twilight asking me to step into unknown. My inside and out felt like stones but I was willing to know what it has to say, For sometimes the most ordinary things become blessings and I had nothing to… Continue reading Broken Sunset

Let them be

This constant pressure someone feeling that they are entitled to talk to you daily can be draining ( and can break the bonds too). When going through things, the most creative people can also run out of words and the answer to every question can be nothing more than “okay”. We keep checking on people… Continue reading Let them be

Apocalypse

Silence knocks on my window everytime it snows; I have an ache every time I hear your name. This time, spring came with the bittersweet memories, my kitchen smells like your favourite street food and the aroma runs through my veins, urging me to run away . We are oceans apart yet its heavy on… Continue reading Apocalypse

Art

From silent poetry to screaming voice of art I have met people, creative from the heart. They tried to teach structure and rhythm but who they are to decide what we are? I have seen pioneers of colours and words – the weapons which give scars and help the world win wars. From Van Gogh… Continue reading Art

Pockets full of Cosmos.

Those honey coated eyes were the “okay.” to every “okay?” I used to throw, when sheets used to haunt me In search of rhythm, to him I used to go. The one named after my favourite colour In his smile I used to see the rainbow, Every mountain was his own and every stream he… Continue reading Pockets full of Cosmos.

An uncertain journey

The thought of bleeding and running out of love is what makes the pen fall still, Even though we can always paint the sky yellow, but the fear that others never will. We always look for the spring without trying to learn the cold beauty of snow, Why choose the abandoned cracks to hide when… Continue reading An uncertain journey

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