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Concealed by dark clouds

You keep shining.

Bright streaks of light

Dazzle me.

Enchant me.

And keep me waiting..

Waiting for you.


Neeha said…
Simple & beautiful..
Advanced New year wishes!!
Ria said…
Aah the moon peeking from the clouds.
Priya Joyce said…
waiting for wat? the moon? :P
You have the power to say so much in so less words...!!!!

Amazing ....!!
Phoenix said…
im struck by how mature you have become hubby...seriously.. i love every word you have strikes a chord with me..
Thousif Raza said…
honest and smiple... yet it has that shimmer that glistens just like that of moon and something which i quite cant put nit in words... nice work... :)

take care and keep writing.........
In Arabic culture the moon is masculine (male) and the sun (female), so you are waiting for your moon, which in the western culture symbolizes virginity and death ..
I like it, your moon is your savior; your "godot" must come to fill thee with life and love.
You are a poetess. I hear your music, and no exotic words are used. Congrats, Anwesa.
Merry Chrismass, Happy new year.
Satwinder Singh said…
Stop Waiting and Start Acting.. :P
Anwesa said…
@Chocolate Lover,
Thanks !!
Anwesa said…
Thanks ! HNY to you too!!
Anwesa said…
@Lil' Priya,
Waiting for "You"
Anwesa said…
@Pesto Sauce,
Anwesa said…
Thanks dear !
Anwesa said…
:) Thanks sweetheart !
Anwesa said…
Thanks buddy !
Anwesa said…
@The reader from Yemen,
Thanks for your reply. I cannot get your name so have to address you like this.Thanks for coming here,reading this.
Anwesa said…
Priya said…
" you are waiting for your moon, which in the western culture symbolizes virginity and death .."

Can I get back whom I lost. will he come back... ever...
Can anyone comeback after death...

I wish this from the bottom of my heart...
Anwesa said…
After-death....I feel they can. In some different form. May your wish be fulfilled someday.

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I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017