A Sunday Creation

When words failed, music took over.


Reflection of wishes in the deeds of another

voices that feeling which painfully bothers,

the Gazer, the Lesser.

Like a cut that cripples but slowly everyday,

this feeling ripples yet somehow stays,

adding to the misery of the Gazer, the Lesser.

And then it turns vicious in the sight of oblivious,

destroying the once precious, making the Jealous,

the Gazer, the Lesser.


A quaint sound touched my mind

while I seeked quiet.

Studded, the starry night,

it spoke of a riot

between some wrong and right.

Steps which we often don’t take

took me to that sound.

Wrapped in the warmth of a street light

is where I found, the quiet.

Yet another wronged

trying to cleanse the conscience.

My quiet was glistening.

Her eyes just made sense.

A listener was all she ever needed

and her song was just what I required.

Her tears invited mine too

as I sat in front of the inspired.

Two cried for their own reasons

and later smiled because the same.

Glistening was the view that night.

I never looked away from those eyes.


It stings like the air of winter.

Attacking the exposed skin

and reminding of the need

of a warm feeling,

one in the mind and heart.

Every moment without it

allows fear to creep in

and encapsulate my wit.

When will I win?

This need or rather perhaps the wait

gets stronger and tougher by the day.

Maybe on a particular date

it and I will both meet on the way.

Writer’s block

When your creativity becomes your limitation

and you feel that you have lost that touch.

When you fail to express yourself

and are overwhelmed as such.

Why can’t I write like before?, lingers in your mind

and very easily you question what you used to define.

Understand that you are to find, your inspiration

and with that inspire a whole generation.


I love winters. I hate pulp. I prefer shoes over sandals. I this, I that and so on.

Yes, we are all about opinions. Our character which we so potently try to flaunt or hide, depending on the evaluation report we see fit, is in fact a reflection of the opinions we hold so dearly.

Now, there is a small issue, bud. “Opinions”, what feeling comes to your mind when I say this word?

Stop reading and first, comment your feeling below before your decide to go ahead with the post. (be fair, bud).

In my mind I find that the word Opinion instigates a very defensive feeling in the hearer’s mind. Why?, let me think about it. If you find the answer, do let me know. 😛

Okay, enough with the content writing now, let’s do what I do always… Write a POEM!!!


Like the water of the stream we see from time to time,

Life brings with it lessons and events

which do make up for what we call as living

but also leaves something behind, like scents.

These scents, foul or fragrant, then attracts

fauna with whom we grow and live and breathe.

Alike ones are liked while most drift away,

It is not so difficult, this debate

“Why those who stay, stay.”

Opinions are what we all emanate

and that foul or fragrant too

depends on the inhaler.

Why shouldn’t it?

Everyone has opinions.



Under whose Court do you find yourself regularly

defending your honour and actions?

In the chase to live a guilt free life

you deem yourself guilty, basis dubious perceptions.

Convicting a soul which is yours.

Guilt free cannot be if you plead guilty.

Understand that in a world of 7.5 billion,

there exists 7.5 billion courts and judges.

You can therefore let yourself off the hook,

no matter how clean, you will end up with smudges.

To live freely which we all so desire,

we must not see ourselves as criminals

for they aren’t meant to be free.

Deeds will anyway catch up.

Renounce the book of law

which was made as per notion.

True law is above all and covers each,

Guilt free is a rare emotion.

Let them Bee

A busy bee while seaking nectar

came flying to my garden today.

Asked me if it could take some

for creating the honey, which I love by the way.

Upon agreement it started to work

and work my god it did that day.

Several trips from my garden to it’s hive

it made for just a teaspoon of honey, they say.

Nature and it’s workers, fascinating as they are,

Gave me honey and pollinated my flowers

Just to thank me for doing nothing, bizarre.

Nature and it’s workers, take so less and bestow so much.

Bee which is renowned and killed for stinging

is mearly asking, Do not touch.

Only to give us, the sweet honey we love so much.

Poetry Series: Episode:3

Title: Sense

So we take pride in our feat

and boast of our struggles

while humanity continues to deplete.

Doesn’t make much sense, does it?

Capable is incapacitated

and fraudulent is celebrated

while morals are being preached.

Doesn’t make much sense. does it?

Chivalry is considered as unusual

and profanity is accepted

while etiquettes are dictated.

Doesn’t make much sense, does it?

Sadly, that’s the world we live in.

Unfortunately, that’s the norm we believe in.

Alas! that’s the nature of today:

Doesn’t make sense but still okay.

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