Category: poetry


She sat in a corner,
Hands over her knees,
Waiting for her demons to enter,
Waiting for her modesty to be bared,
Ready to beg,
Ready to cry,
Ready to kick her little arms,
Frantically in vain,
But that day no one came,
Her demons lurking in the darkness,
Disappeared into the darkness.
The dreams that had plagued for years,
Dreams that would wake her up in fear,
Were finally no where near.
Finally her horizons were calm and clear,
Pink and blue, just like before the sunrise,
Not like heavy darkness that has always been there.
Because self defense lessons have paid off well,
Now she knows no one can harm her anymore,
No one will every be able to repeat what he did to her little self before.

The above poem in response to:


It seems almost foreign,
This life I have come to live,
A year before on this day,
There were a million dreams,
A million thoughts for tomorrow.
My future would be this,
My future would be that,
I had thought so often,
But now when I sit here pondering,
I think most of which I had hoped,
Happened never,
Fulfilled never,
But still I am happy,
But still I have accepted,
Still I have made peace,
With the present,
And fallen love with it.
Even though this life is completely foreign,
To the dreams I once had,
But still it’s loved,
Still it is the life I want to lead,
At least for now…..


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:

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: