Bouncing ***** jumping up and down
crossing the net.
From player A to B
Covering one to another set.
Trying to understand what's in their heads.
It's another popular - Blue versus Red.

A stretch one took to serve it to another.
Spinning the ball, sending it further.

For the first five minutes, they stand and play,
They keep paddling away.
How determined, one would wonder,
Watching this scene from a distance away.

Hilarious, I thought—the same I do
with thoughts about you.
I paddle them from what should I say or what not to.
Sometimes I fear serving it wrong.

Now for a novice like me, the game is long gone.
And even if I served it right,
My head would be spun, contemplating the spinning of the rest.

Would it be frontspin—
a "no, stay away from me, no love"—faster than served?
Or is it backspin—
"you are a good guy, but not good enough for me"?

If it is yes, yippee, let's settle the score.
Adventure is this game of table tennis.
Would you like to play the menace?
Make noise, take the paddle, explore!.

Our path is ours - bold and divine,
So be it, I say.
Wish the Lord would make all the obstacles sway.

A path unique and apart,
Everyone has a different start.
It's a sprint, not a race;
Eventually, we will find our peace, our pace.

With courage and resilience, our will strengthens.
To find purpose, you keep hustling along.
Bring things to ears that matter,
Treat the rest as a playful song.

Hope you find the thing that you revel in.

If you ever get let down,
Don’t think of backing down.
Solve, for everything is treasured in your crown.
No matter what destiny announces.

Make your mark, engrave every stone.
Be your best – keep moving on till victory graces your throne.

With recent times I have learnt,
Happiness is momentary.
But does that make it temporary?
Is it just an exaggerated feeling,
That pulls you down and pushes you up
Over and over,
Jumping on and off the railing?

Or is it something divine?
What is happiness?
Can anyone define?
Only the smile on a face can make it revive—
Or could it be something else?
Why is it so hard to understand,
Storming my head to make a stand?
I just want to store happiness,
Like coke in a can.

I stayed up all night
Trying to pen down something about this night.
Something about the moon, stars, all the things glowing, right.
Tore the page because I didn't find the rhyme right.

Then I thought to write about nature—
Something about trees, rivers, and the blue sky,
About some 'how' and some 'why.'
After jotting down some insensible lines,
My brain—ah!—again started to climb a different vine.

How indecisive it behaved.
What to try to write about, my heart started to crib.
And then I got this cringy thought—
To write about this nothingness.

So understated but believable,
Nonexistent but feel-able.
Ah, again I miss that poetic sense.
The thinking motor of me definitely needs a rewind.

Even when I tried to write about nothing—
No facts to decline—
I asked my fingers to stop
Until I figure out a perfect rhyme.

To the midlife crisis,
Ode to the dark side.
Sometimes it's tough to understand
Where it is leading,
There is a tunnel I see,
Pitch black is that underway.
Ashes of death are below my feat.
Burning human pride and greed
I see angel's real faces.
Horrified indeed
The earth was the only hell
Heaven is now unachievable
You can try any human creed
Furnaces of sins burns the soul.
Solace is a myth,
captivated goodness now find themselves astray and not whole.

Going through my old notebook.
Page by page,
Line by line,
I found phrases I wrote for you —
Raw but true.
Some lines, which even today,
Brought me back to my rue.

My book was pointing towards
An unsung outcry,
Asking me questions — unsolved,
Poking me to answer: “The why?
Hey! Give it a try!”

I found some paragraphs — meaningless.
They have just lost their tenderness.
Stories of my loved adversaries,
Poems about my daunting memories.

They say my book is petrifying,
For it has some pages with moments —
Electrifying.
It still has some pages empty,
Yellow and old,
Stating and defining my dreams —
The stories that remained untold.

Deeper in the sea,
I saw you swim,
Floating free,
With your soul and heart.

Towards the darker realms,
You need no light, no warmth.
It's your wave on which you swim.

Then why this current I feel so strong?
Why do I want to swing, sway along?

You say it as home.
Valiant you are;
Then why live in fear?
What seems distant is truly near.

Depth has its own treasure—
Cult, dark, devilish sea.
I know the cause:
No glee. No plea.

Even when no one on earth
wishes us together—
still, I will stand by you.
Facing the scorching sun,
without the aid of shade—
just a greenish feather.

I adore your might,
your lenses, and your sight.
However—what's on the façade?
Don't bring the cat out of the bag.
There is no need to be shy.
Let the world think they can defy
what we suffice with:
capabilities, resonance, and affection.
Like true pathfinders,
let's take that action.

Perplexed and astonished—
conjuring both of our minds.
Doubts and fears
are there too,
moving us out of the line.
Shed the scare.
Let's brim through the darkness,
out of the lair.

The path forward is something
you’ll never know until you walk on.
With a mightier pen in hand—
and no swords—
we challenge, we fight,
despite the odds.

Did you ever look up at the sky?
The silver clouds hold the rain.
They will pour it for a reason
And grace the land,
Washing away every stain.

For a reason above reasoning,
The one seasoned with your name.
So let the rain tell your story—
There is no shame.

The whole of your life, we chase that dime,
And in that chase, indeed, we lose the people—prime.
Are you looking up like me,
Maybe from your balcony?

Oh! You found flowers down on the ground—
Yellow petals of some fallen flower.
The rain brings a message of this time
And asks me not to lose you,
Affirmed by the legion of the wine.

Queen of Spades...
Queen of Hearts...
What should I say?
From where should I start?

Am I tired of writing stories of the heart?
For the heart brings a box filled with chaos—
A weight of dismay,
Ah! Some traces of illogical hope,
And some things... should I say?

Perplexed, he stands—
What should he carry, and what should he let go?
Don't bluff your cards—hey! Just show.

He wants to propose something to me, I suppose.
Maybe a proposal of care,
A proposal to share,
A proposal to collaborate,
A proposal—one that's fair.

Maybe he forgets—
Whenever one proposes,
The other may dispose.

Do you feel it too?
Or am I scribbling a madman’s manuscript?
The warmth, the haze—
This feeling of a desperate chase.

Does nature only mock me?
Does it grace you?
The wind caresses the skin of all beings—
Do they call you a pawn
In a mesmerizing scheme?

Or am I just being dreamy?
It is necessary for my heal.
Is it the same, the likewise intuition?
Do you feel, what I feel about this creation
Or is it - crazy guy's manifestation.
Do you feel it too?
What I feel?
Listening to my conscience I scream.

Two faces sitting together
Two faces fighting each other.
Same two faces holding hands?
Are these two faces friends together?
Or the biggest rivals of the clan?
Cute and smart—a combo mix.
They both have a different kind of rizz.

Sometimes life feels like a movie.
I don't know whether I am a hero or not.
However, when I see you,
I feel something unreal,
I feel something splendid.
I feel something like these gray clouds placed rightfully within the hues of the sky.
I feel your verses even without hearing them.
I feel you, without having you beside me.
How strange, how surreal it is
That I have you, without having you.
It is definitely a Dreamwood watch—
A movie real, not a reel on a social media screen.

If you are afraid to fall for me.
for the reasons and logic
Tragic, it would be.
Because science never explained it more than a hormone release-
But it's beyond that reality.

If you are afraid to fall for me.
Cause there could be disagreement and fights
Didn't they become lovely memories.
After a moonlight dinner—A lover reverie.

PS. Holding hands is forever

If you are afraid to fall for me.
You should have stopped me falling for you.
Why did you show your love to me?
Is that thing utmost practical?


Give me some reliance, I too have a part to play.
We fall together—
Promise, but we won't fall down.
I want to give you my love crown.
Don't be afraid, in this sea of affection.
It is better to swim—
But it is better to drown.


You say love is sham, a scheme.
Maybe! You are true— you are right.
For I bet myself on the table and lost.
Nevertheless, I lost rightfully -
In the love that I have and for the love you have for me

With regards and this poor heart-
I sign off this verse.
Just want you to know
Lover boy still trusts you as his universe.

Echoes of the Dark War
Trembled, blood-stained sounds all around,
Screeching swords, blasting grenades.
Killer of dreams, yet savior of the sovereign,
A necessary evil that melts your heart in disdain.

But let your pain be your pride,
For the one among the fight.
The girth and bravery warriors showcase
Is beyond any poet's pen's reach.

Have faith in them and stay strong.
It will ignite the fire of valor,
Till the battle stays.

Soul of the Lord—begone.
Flashing bullets haunts the celestial sea.
Fire and electricity are in every soldier's vain.
Freedom is the price.
Respect because that's the wage life has paid.

Every night
It feels like a day
Cause I cannot sleep—
I dream of you with my open eyes.

Every night
That book on my bedside
Reads your name, reads your fame to me.
A timeless story
A classic of all time.

Every night
Earphones that connect my phone to my heart.
Play songs which celebrate you.

Every night
Empty roads in front of my house await you.

Every night
My sleep lingers to come,
Until it’s sure it will dream of you.

Every night...

How sometimes fiction feels like reality.
Should I try to resolve this parity?
Life has everything—
A god's charity.

Youth is getting obscure.
Wisdom is with me.
Now, I have the clarity.

What's not being said,
Say it now.
Defy the shyness,
Bring down the brevity.

Elaborate your senses into actions,
Uncovering the chastity.
Do what you need.
Synchronized with want.
Be alive in the present.
Stay away from greed.

You can't stop the burning imagination
Let your spirits explore the moves and the sensations.
Find your true soul by grooving on this sacrament
Build the bridge towards this angelic temperament.
You will find a way to reach your golden dream.

Hope these harmonic beats find you.
May this storm find stillness
Away from this mayhem
Up and above this abyss
Beyond the limit and all the bias.
May the peace find you.

I won even by losing the battle.
Wrestling with my own spirit.
Still I wish it to be.
That in some other world —
In some other multiverse —
I will say, I finally find you.

Little fish swimming in a housed pond,
See her swirl joyously all day long.
Got me wondering what her childhood would be like—
Did her grandmother tell her stories about kings and their knights,
Or horrors of birds preying on them from the sky?

Maybe about mermaids or the treasures from wrecked ships?
I watch her still—she is flapping her fins,
Maybe expressing her experiences of the deep, darker sea.

I still wonder—what a life it would be,
Fascinating or dreadful, what would it be?

A thought that waved through me.
As those sea animals sailing in that pond,
woe returned to me—
My perched state upon that tree.
Apart from my loneliness —which was on a spree.
I talked my world to the beings with no voices.
'Brurr brurr' was the only answer,
But with sound reasons and no noises.

I tried to calm myself, Iike water does.
Just listening to the hisses,
Which gills do.
I asked questions which were fishy gibberish.
The fishes replied to me,"Do you even know English?
The lost is gone but through hope it can be found.
Treasure those memories even if you don't feel like sticking around.
For those reverend moments,
Are part of your fate, your destiny—

Your living story is just a dot in this universe.
Maybe you used to be a romeo either in past or in any other multiverse.
A Romeo of dreams.
A Lover boy...
And an idiot who talks to nature.
Was it a fleeting or a misadventure?

Talkative fishes now, swam to the other side.
Leaving me alone with my story.
But with hope towards that bright light.
Little more gibberish
Little more garbage.
will you write with me?

Who said angels don't dwell on earth?
I just found five of them:
One for the laugh,
One for the love,
One for the sadness,
One for the truth,
One for everything above.

I want to have them, Lord, please cut down the chase—
The chase of longings,
The chase of memories,
The chase of beauty,
The chase for peace.

For those angels and I share the same thirst.
Quench this thirst; show your image to us.

Holding bags of varied items
I stand in a street—thin.
Flea, but not free,
A place where dreams are sold for a fee.
Watching—negotiations of a lifetime,
Sweat and effort, all in a fading line.
A market where kindness is weighed,
And in return, greed is paid.
Humility and humanity are just low-quality commodities.
I stand in a street—thin.
Love has lost its chances;
It cannot win.
Hatred is the ruler,
Taxing your thick and thin.
It's different from the market of my idealism—
When my finger used to hold a hand,
Without fear and away from this nervous tree.
When letting your heart fly freely
Was an honored deal.
I stand in the market,
As a mannequin—useless,
Bought and sold in ways—pointless.
When will this trade of lives end,
And real shoppers return to sight?
I want to stand in a street—thin,
Flea and free,
Where love and art are traded in a harmonious deal.

Flying over states on a blue flight
Hospitality and humbleness ----
Perfect blend to make a blissful ride
A culture mix slumber together
And so they break a bread that happens once in a
Lifetime.

A stranger to talk your heart out was rare to find
Conversion over a tea, was all a mesmerizing
bit..
About kings and their tales of fancies were all like airy glitz
And for a time being, A cloud got shy from our watchful eyes..
Two hours, between all of this journey ended in a meantime.
I don't know how to write my journey's end
For now I am content to have a stranger friend.

Forgive me for my thoughts,
For they were not kind.
Forgive me for my words,
For they were not true.
Forgive me for my actions,
For they hurt you, though I never meant to.

Forgive me for my dance,
For I learned it for you but never got to show.
Forgive me for my art,
For it was inspired by you when I should have let it go.
Forgive me for my music,
For its tune bound our hearts, yet it made you cry.
Forgive me for my heart,
For it beats only for you—day and night.

In the moments of today and tomorrow,
Moments for me are the ones in which I find your blooming smile,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

Scenes that I store in images are all my fancies,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

Sounds mesmerizing my soul are of the bird called canary,
That abodes your throat,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

In the pocket of my old jeans,
I found a paper—not ordinary—
A game, mystical and playful, full of memories.

It was a paper marked with red,
Yellow, orange, and green—
Our childhood's magical screen.

Like a magician’s prodigy, you conjured magical air
That would throw away your despair.
An origami art of fortune-telling—
You wouldn't be able to play without yelling.

This multi-folded paper talked differently than usual.
It spoke about your real present and the future.

With color green and numbers 1 and 5,
It spoke of the importance of growth with balance:
"Develop yourself—live up to the challenge."

On color yellow, numbers were marked as 2 and 6,
Which said, "With optimism and cheer at heart,
You will have your yardstick—just start."

As always, you must paint the city red.
Numbers 3 and 7 depict energy and passion.

At last, if you choose orange,
Yes, now you are in the right range.
Creativity is 4, and joy is 8—
Without these two, life is just an empty race.

When your brain stops braining,
And even your heart pauses to ponder,
The day keeps getting longer.

Then, in a sudden twist
Your ears catch a sly, playful bliss—
A sarcastic tone,
Five crazy souls laughing like a booming jukebox

"Oh, pleaseee!"
"Talk to my hand!"
"Stop triggering me!"

A Pride Month fan,
There stands friendship—
What a lovely mayhem!

Talking, chatting, teasing, and support,
Together, even if we land in hell,
It would be better than a heavenly abode.

A bond so strong,
Scattered far, yet together we stand.
Hope we keep it lifelong - A spellbound Span.

One side of me says it's a lovely gesture.
Another says it's not.
Which one to believe ?
My mind is diminishing and it's beginning to rot.
About that gesture of silence.
Don't **** me with stillness
If you still, do want to **** me
you must **** by violence.
Hurricane inside me
About this notion-
Now, I ponder
They are getting strong.
Lasting little longer,
Like an ocean wave, They are getting stronger
I am unable to hold it any longer.
I am a peasant fighting a war.
Aggrieved victim who couldn't score.

I thought today, I won't think about you.
Here I am flooded with thoughts about you.
I thought today I won't sit near that door and wait for  you to pass by
Here I am, facing the same direction
I thought today, not to give you that note.
-The poem I wrote about you, how I feel about you.
Here I am, Holding  that note with me - in the book I read
How can I be both?
Exuberant and tired
I am tired by the longing
And exuberant by the love.
Here I am, this is me.
In madness- What sane people call it.
Will you believe if I say my love is real?
It is not surreal.
Not surreal...but real.
The difference- if you ask.
I can't tell.
Because while I am awake it's you on my mind.
Even in my sleep it's you everytime.
Vexed is nature, bored by my longings.
They now have started to tease me.
I thought today, I will find myself and stay strong.
Here I am- lost somewhere.
Gone for long.

Why does my soul feel dead,
Still away from God?
The passion I had is gone and lost.
Amid all happy signs, why do I still feel this emptiness?

Without a picture of you, my songs have lost their melody.
Without you, even success feels like tragedy.
The brimming sunrays don't relay warmth.
Subtle heat is burning—not the skin, but something within.

Hollowness is the farewell gift you left.

I know, when I was little,
I waited for you at night.
The place I waited for you was home to me,
Where you, I, Mom, and Bro had fun.
Yes, that was home to me.

I fought with you over silly things,
Yes, that place was home to me.
Where you made me learn my lessons,
Yes, that was home to me.

I longed for holidays to see your face,
Yes, that place to visit was home to me.

You're not there; it's just an empty place,
The one I profoundly used to call
Home to me.

Every memory that we build from my childhood to being a noxious adult
The place where we build all of this
Yes that was home to me

Without you even that or any other place.
I don't think I would ever be able to say..
Yes that place is home to me.

She gives the best vibes
After all, she is queen of the beehive.
The fierce leader of the clan.
Her idealism on unity—
I am a big fan.

Imaginative and creative,
Engineers and architects learn from her narrative.
Though small it looks, the hive is home to many.
Built out of wax—
It didn’t cost them a penny.

Just some smiling flowers—
Some pollen, some grains.
A house protected by pointed stingers.
Don’t think them tiny or frail.

Buzzing and fussing—
No grudge, no fudging.
I adore bees and their hives.
Their Honeywell life—
Symbol of harmony,
Idol of strength.

Away from this world apart,
With sweetness in their heart.

Relishing noises but silently.
Fighting with my own thoughts violently.
Questioning my belief about myself fervently.
Nudging and judging—
Quest of my own journey.
This hailstorm is pouring over my soul ardently.

Tired from my own test.
My brain begged for some rest.
I closed my eyes.
And found your face.
Like in the movies of the west.
The reflection written on a holy sect.
The one which feels pleasingly nice
When a wound touches ice.

Healer heals the weak.
I heard there is no medicine for my heart's tweak.
No cure, no remedy!
I have become a real life comedy.
I am now a clown of the town
with a throne-less crown.
I am just a clown of the town.

Today, I just thought to sleep and not to write.
But couldn't let my pen down on this sleepless night.

I can't sleep,
For I don't need to see dreams with closed eyes.
I can't sleep,
'Cause the moon rays give my thoughts a rise.
I can't sleep,
The love I have for you makes me stupid, not wise.
I can't sleep,
Because in the day, I had nothing special to give.
I can't sleep,
Thinking how can you look more beautiful than the previous night?
I can't sleep,
I am losing my patience—can I see your face once, then we can stay apart?
I can't sleep,
My insecurities I need to curtail, would like to consider a fresh start.
I can't sleep,
For my lips were sealed, but there was conversation heart to heart.

I write what feels right,
Still hiding—words are my disguise.
Poetry is just a form,
Like other arts, I con.

I con hearts,
I con songs,
I con beauty—
I con everything that comes along.

I am a writer—a stealer, a thief,
I write what the world chooses to snub.

I write to see that smile—
That embrace of warmth, soft yet wild.
A mere observer, I call it a game,
Bringing the cough up, even if others find it lame.

I couldn't say
What I wanted to—
To tell the stories of my new adventures,
Or the guilt of the missed ones.

I couldn't say
The love I have for you.

I could say
The appreciation is due—for making me better.

I couldn't say
That when the wind blows around me,
Your essence caresses my skin.

I could not say
That my heart is burdened with your memories.
Could you please take them away?

Maybe actions of mine
Are the things that bother her mind.
I can't help—
Those deeds are born of a cause:
Keeping cassette of her tunes on a rewind.

Pictures of landscapes I keep posting on my social wall,
Thinking—could there be a time
When I can visit them with her, maybe next fall?

To trouble her thoughts is the fear in me,
And I must refrain from telling her the truth,
Feared by the fact of losing her,
Whatsoever of her I have.

Adorable or mischief,
It's all in my memorial pack.

Only half of me stands here,
Incomplete.
The other half of me—
It’s hers now,
To cherish every fleeting moment,
Every stolen glance.
Hope this time I did it neat.

Undeniable, unfathomable, I felt a moment indescribable.
Leading towards an unexpected goal,
Yet desirable.

In shock, I am, yet cherishing it at the same time.
Questions found answers, long-awaited.
A smile— a diehard wish I perceived in real time.
I've been zoning in and out ever since,
Like someone pulling up and down the lever.
Brain stopped, not 'braining'—what a cringe?

Chitter-chatter—who knows? What's the matter?
In gladness, I repeal my senses.
High on elation, no offenses.

A moment so momentary,
With an impact, not temporary.
I felt a scene—contemporary

Thy longings have now become inscrutable.
Loving you was not my choice but my fate—
That is undeniable.

Do you think I’ve ever had a day without a thought?
You are the first and last thing on my mind,
Ever-revivable.

Apologies if you think it as a drought,
I say, never mind.
I will fight my flaws,
From dot to dot.

I came to you
To ignite the lamp of love,
A lamp of light.
Instead,
I burst the fireball of hatred
Inside your heart.

I learned that spiteful insight.
I hate me; for you hate me.
Though my love stands young and true,
Even hearing your voice has become a wishing game.
I just need you, no fame—
I have no shame.

You believe in the love prescribed in a book,
But disbelieve the one that is real.
Why are you taking me off the hook?
Am I a crook?

Shallow are my senses.
Just above the line
Deeper the thoughts flow
Finding answers in the bottom of the riverbed
For the questions never afloat.
They sank yet there still, like a vine
Rooted beneath or up the mill
Breezes on the shore
Keeps bringing the quest allure
I can't solve them alone.
For I need a fairy's touch.
Of your magical hand
I know you are here in this midland
Stealing my heart with a whimsical chant.
Amidst the cluttered clouds
Believe me you are my silver lining
Yes, I have love for you.
I speak out loud.

Imaginary inspiration to the real desperation,
Giggling, laughing, making a puppy face.
An aspirational verse brings up a tickling sensation.

Your words, your verbs.
I count the letters of your lovely nudge.
The way you envision life
Sharpens my pen’s nib,
A slayer among the knives.

A paper is merely a victim,
Enduring the wrath of your beauty.
But still, to write about you,
I rather prefer it as a duty.

A duty that makes me wonder about
The how and why,
Taking a sigh.

I sit on my balcony
With a sun-kissed face,
Writing about my real inspiration
With an imaginary desperation.
A saddened smile,
As I may.

Strange humour my Lord has.
Before giving me my life’s biggest grief,
He gave me a hilarious belief.
He made me wonder about life,
Like a squirrel grabbing a nut with her tiny fingers.
Life is anything beautiful, and for it,
Every species lingers.

I went to tell the stories of worldly adventure
To my beloved,
Who usually stayed on the bed.
Gets overwhelmed seeing the world through my eyes.
I loved my routine, felt nothing could be better than this.
I felt my beloved would stay,
The only one I believed would remain when anyone else could go.
Thy presence, I thought, would be forever present.

The Lord found that maybe I was not a good storyteller.
That’s why He took away my beloved,
To recite His best seller.
This is how humour turned to grief.
Shattered, here I stand with my story incomplete.

Infatuation, infectious infatuation.
Can anyone tell the difference between love and tormentous sensation.
both feels the same.
Why do I even play this game.
My heart cries for the one.
Should I even try?.
Big question mark on the existence of both the feelings.
They are good for nothing in terms of healings
They both don't care about the real feelings.

A Gamble of Thoughts
I play with my night,
Over a bankroll of solace.
Betting my daily chaos on the table,
Trying to play with my full aces.

Although that high-roller cloud was over my chases,
Turn by turn, my confused thoughts were bluffed by whimsical reality.
Tear drops fell, not because I was losing my heart,
But for knowing it was a lost game from the start.

So I changed the game, chose wisdom for another round,
Put all my best cards,
Shining with pride,
Believing this time I would flip the game.

To my surprise, Nature had better clarity.
It played with a balanced approach,
And I lost everything on that deck.
Heart and mind both said, "Let’s not gamble again.".

Brewed from the finest bean,
Best of its times,
I poured a coffee in the cup of my life.

Found adventures, white as milk,
Complexion and questions to stir.
I poured a coffee in the cup of my life.

Then I added sugar, tasting like happiness,
Yet slightly bitter for the lessons in humility.
I poured a coffee in the cup of my life.

Every sip affirms a memory,
Waking me from every scary reverie.
Every sip affirms longings and trying times.

Brewed from the finest beans,
It helped me, kept me from being mean.
I sipped a coffee, the best of all times.

I poured a coffee in the cup of my life,
I poured a coffee, finest of its kind.

I saw someone in the library.
A face hiding itself in the books and writing something in the diary.
A fiction reading fiction.
Presence—the description is beyond diction.
A storylike fairy reading a book, scary
Holmes awakens in me,
Starting to solve an unasked mystery.
The case was complicated—
To write a synopsis of this story.
Yes! It's a writer's glory.

She looked up and down the shelf,
Thinking, searching, reading, and scratching her head,
Unable to find the novel that connects the thread.
Totally consumed, she was examining a book in red.
Ink stains on her fingernails
Told me she is a joyful writer, so why the disdain?
By a fluke, I got it right—she was searching for a story,
Sensitive and unique in kind.
But not found; efforts in vain—
"So should we write this story in real time?" I requested.

I stayed quiet.
Listening to the noise of my own might
I stayed quiet.
Listening to the critics echoing all around my sight.
I stayed quiet.
Sitting near the beach listening to adventures of the waves - they gossip with the light
I stayed quiet
Singing my song on stage to the people of my heart
I stayed quiet
When I was unable to comprehend, where to start.
I stayed quiet
Just because there was no one to converse heart to heart.
I stayed quiet.
Because silence, the golden key, unravels the truth -beyond the sky.
I stayed quiet.
Just to be in peace.
I stayed quiet.

Is this madness?
If you like the shelf where she once stood.

Is this madness?
If you still adore the tea —
the herbal one you never had.

Is this madness?
If you are tempted to brag
about the qualities that were never yours.

Is this madness?
If you feel a sense of safety
in the mask you never wore.

Is this madness?
When you admire everything of her
but nothing of you.

Is this madness?
That you always dream of her —
whether she yearns for you?
An answer, still unknown.

I don't know what it is—
This path I walk now.
Where it leads, I cannot tell.
Destiny is inevitable,
No matter how far it may be.

I stopped—
Forming opinions,
Passing decrees
On what I see.

For a toddler, sitting on her lap,
Yawning, snapping, and giggling,
Googling his unaware eyes all around,
Just seeking the attention of whoever surrounds him,
Taught me something different.

Sometimes, being oblivious to the world
Is a gift.
It is a bliss to be indifferent.

Mocking that chandelier up in the sky.
He was also hanging lonely like me—
Knowing that,
We gave each other high five!

Disgusting the concept of love and longings.
We both were losers, half trained players
Who now live in disguise.

Perched on a tree like birds do—
I was sitting near that pond.
Being the best critics for every dove couple.
In that cafe, they were sharing their feelings all along.

Looking at those fishes,
Before starting my rantings that I learnt by heart.
A fish yelled at me, hey! You idiot, What's wrong?
Surprised and confused—
I lost my expressions
I lost my fuse
Whether I felt disgust or in awe?
What was that outlaw?

Then she asked, "Are love poems meant to be hidden?
Then why are they supposed to be written?.
A sudden thought popped up in her mind.
Why do you hide your thoughts from me?
There is a fault in your design

Maybe it is just you, not them
Who lives in his own false notion.
You are a victim of your own dreams.
You're totally out of proportion.

Love is a game of divinity,
Just out of brevity.
Let me define— it is a game of giving it all.
Not to receive.
It is not a post to resign.
It is not a post to resign."

What I have expressed
are the words spiralling on this paper
Depicting thoughts of my heart.
I plead guilty for the pain which I caused
While you stayed off-guard.

What I have whispered.
Are rhymes of my clean intentions
A statement that I have respect for you.
Perhaps you perceive me wrong
for the place I belong-
You judge me as a fanatic norm.

Yet to claim otherwise
I proved myself enough-
If you still don't feel that I am a good guy.
And if you feel that I didn't stand true to your high five.

I feel sorry for myself
I shoot an unaimed shot- a futile try.
And yes, it's true.
I longed for your soul.
I have no materialistic goal.

I wrote a few hymns
Maybe a heavenly crime.
Whatever you say
Whatsoever you convey.
I will just say, "it's okay, it's fine."