Category: poetry


I wish I could write the way I wrote,

But poet in me had just left me broke,

No not my money which was robbed,

But my ability to express was lost,

Maybe those emotions that once engulfed me a lot,

Got adrift as soon as my struggle stopped,

With my dream to get my dream career partially done,

With a new sun rising,

And the clouds somehow shifting,

A dusk giving rise to a new dawn and a new tomorrow.

Though I should be happy that I am no longer sad,

But still that pleasure to hold my pen with emotions folding my page,

Is something I would never cease to miss.

Above poem is in response to:



“Before you is a little place,
Go there and you will enjoy your stay
But if you wanna leave,
If you wanna go back to your place,
You should know you won’t be allowed.”

“Read this before you enter” the guard had told her. Days after being stuck inside she wished she had read it before.

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Above post in response to:

A new page

He touched her hand accidentally and a new page was written about him
“His hands touched my body, penetrated my soul and left an imprint I know I could never erase, even after this moment would be gone, even after he would be gone, a part of him will always remain with me.”

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Above poem is in response to: 


I wish

Did I fall in love with the man or the beast in you,
The beast who feasts,
On my self esteem, on my soul,
That urges me to die a little, 
Everyday inside.

I scream, I plead,
But all you do is make me bleed,
Tearing my heart apart indeed.

Your words, 
Your constant craving to judge, 
To make me believe,
I am useless piece,
Who can’t do anything  properly.

I wish I could spend my life,
With the man who made me blind,
In his love, in his devotion,
The man who believed in me,
And in everything I did.

I wish you had not changed,
I wish you had managed to remain the same.

Above poem is in response to:


The man

And the mountains echoed her voice, as she screamed,   

In front of her eyes was the man,  

The man who pushed her down the hills, 

The man she had loved, 

The man who stood there kissing another woman.

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Above poem is in response


Still stuck to my face

You are a dream that got shattered,
But a dream that always mattered.
You are a man, 
Whose fingers found her face, 
But left behind my visage.
You are a desire, 
Keeping me awake,
And your thoughts a addiction,
That I can never delete,
This power of the one sided love,
So strong, so intense,
Burning me inside,
But this mask that you are no one,
Still stuck to my face.


Above poem is in response to:


A thing of past

More than a thousand times I had said,
I won’t succeed, 
I won’t get it,
Not to myself,
But to others,
Because deep down I always believed in the magic,
The magic of me.

The things I said we’re just an expression,
A thing that would hide my believe,
Because I was afraid,
If I fail,
People will talk behind my back,
And call me overconfident,

I was never that,
I was never overconfident,
But still I failed,
And now I don’t trust myself,
My belief in myself,
Is long forgotten,
A thing of past.