( It tells genuine stories)
It is blank
The vision inside me sank
In every inch of my body
Won’t this mystical
Dark night never just end??
Toads who I feel are barking,
clouds pass, without even giving a warning,
Mumbles of sounds constantly beating my earlobes,
A night full of pain ,and me,
in natural robes amongst the shivering plantain.
Touch me not,
withers in the atmosphere although dark
I can see untrustworthiness featuring everywhere,
Hail! The intensity of my tears burning down my face
Decorated with innocent looks, just
Like a forlorn, lonely flower vase.
( This beverage can teach us so much!)
Hazed about my timetable for the today,
Hoping my hazelnut coffee,
rescues me to save my day.
It’s always an art
Curating new methods to brew a happier heart
Just thinking about the timetable
containing the future part,
My iced brown potion just spills on my perfect chart!!!
There is a brew,
For everyone and not just a handful few
There is an opportunity for every one of you
For even the experienced,
and also for people stepped brand new…
Something for each being,
variations when the beans renew
A cup of coffee, if looked at…
(The story of a never ending bond between a musician and his…)
Light rays pass as he squiggles out of his cavern. Is it really that he is awake? Or I doubt if it’s the burning of my lantern I wonder. That soul helps me overcome my awedde versions. I have the most robust compositions at hand each day returning eagerly with a whole bunch of crackers that he can digest.
As class ends everyday and I hastily proceed to my motorbike towards 6th cross , that little cheesling occupies approximately 99% of my cognitive and emotional processes (the remaining…
(And why emotional pauses are important)
Rushes gush the bloody pockets of mine
I fear time, I don’t know how things will be fine.
You plan things, yet the converse churns itself,
My stomach burns of stress, thinking whether the truth would go off-shelf.
Strongly hoping, to reap the wait of true love
Praying nothing happens in the middle,
The heat of amplifying bubbles
and societal pressures from above
it is a long known fact that,
Pure love is ,
“genuineness soaked in the purity of patience, trust and time”
Hoping that these words,
would settle the flutters,
of the impatient…
It is indeed gold
Your image in my heart.
Splashes of your essence
which is secure and bold
Wanting to vent it all,
In that beautiful heart
with which you forgive and withhold.
Seeking true love
An everlasting friendship through rough hurdles
Just hope my feelings don’t go too above
Just wish we have enough or more water
To splash off
the tragic debts of life’s mysterious muddles.
Wanting to tell you so many things
Secretly wishing you don’t get bored
Not knowing if such a feeling reciprocates
Hoping my mind voice is so loud
Which heavily chants of the fear
Of being just a one-sided ear
Of burning the nightmares that devoid you being aboard
Of just being a yearning queen
Searching for her beloved ,on her devastated chess-board.
( To Pain from the Pained)
It is dark, dusty
The curtains fill darkness in my room
Tension and heat , sweeps down the entire body
Like Maleficent throwing the prick of her painful loom.
not a proof of a broken heart
the split skin which my sweat caresses
the preposterous prickle of a painful part
Things I can tell none
Because of doing such
I cannot claim that things are done.
Knitting the remaining parts of my broken skin’s jigsaw
Envisaging balance but sitting on a one-sided seesaw …
Understanding the pain of others
You freeze, come…
(Why you should be reading this on your yoga mat right now.)
When I say this, I am referring to each step taken for a fitter self, pouring it’s efficacy in all the domains in which humans strive for well-being. Countless research has examined the effects of excercise on different avenues of body science, aesthetics and reducing stress through mindful connections between the soul and the bone. This article would aim at brushing upon such beautiful aspects of health and fitness, but more as a narrative of what I envisage at aiming to do every day. …
(To be alive at the present keeps you well equipped for the future)
The tree seems to hit your head,
You wake up,
But find yourself
Still tossing inside your bed.
It is a need to stand there
and not run neither back nor foreward
Alive to feel the rain bathe your face
or experiencing it devoid of the hideous rat race.
Expectations as if,
The “other” had a map of our life.
What is unreasonable and unfair,
that but what we hold on to
and proclaim to be a deliberate lack of care!
(What goes on inside a dancer’s mind)
Every beat passes
my bells are soaring
Sipping gallons from water from glasses
stepping into a dome,
where an audience is roaring.
The present is
what to concentrate on
The past, however, lies
in my first breath although gone…
from above my head,
Trying not to
hit my head with a bang
Trying to imagine the step
where I gradually twirl with my lover,
when the melodious notes are sung…
of inhibitions if any,
Earnestly trying to snuggle,
My little world in the hearts of many,
each moment for the better.
gesturing my friend
to hastily give me a parchment
So that I may
continue dancing to finish my statement
oozing out words and feelings writing my letter,
And humbly leave the performance so that,
My twirls and stretches create
pleasant imagery and not bewilderment.