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On mornings like this,
When gentle streaks of light
Play hide and seek with darkness,
I crave to hold you real tight.
And never let you go.
In a spur, I abandon my hesitation,
Cross the space between us.
You often take cue  and recoil,
Just like my true lovesick man.
Slowly our tale begins and then
I hear you whisper a name
With passion and trepidation.
I pause , I listen.
It isn’t mine, someone else’s.
Fantasy shatters, heartache entails.
On waking up, you forget all.
I act like I know nothing at all. 

Pic Courtesy : Google


Fatima said…
Painful....but the poem was beautiful!

Yamini Meduri said…
By in life can a woman face this in real?? I am wordless Anwesa..!!

I love the poem but the feeling between the lines is too very painful..!!!
kritika said…
i love it..though painful but an amazing poem :)
mimy said…
nice idea, thanks for sharing

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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.

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 


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.