Posted in Poetry

A Writer’s Dilemma


Do you remember?
When one evening
In front of a saffron sky
being a little shy,
You asked me

“What else can you give me other than poems?”

I looked at you
then to the birds flying
between the cotton candies of rain,
Drinking water before it even fell
I tried hard but in vain,
I had no answer then.

Today I am again
in front of a saffron sky,
but welcoming the sun
rather than saying goodbye,
A bit tired by the night long
conversation with the moon
On how are you?
Where are you?
Why you went away? and all.

I am still trying to find the answer,
of that question in the evening,
till this morning.
As I write “Poems are my life”
on a paper, I think.
What else could I have given you?

Posted in Conversations



She: I won’t fit anywhere.

He: Why so?

She: I am like a weird rock. A rock that has been cut by time and emotions in such a shape that it won’t fit anywhere.

He: *thinks for a bit* But I’ll manage you.

She: You won’t be able to cut yourself according to me.

He: Ah, I won’t do that, I’ll be the clay. I’ll mold.

Posted in Poetry

You Smiling


Winter’s day fog all around

when the whole world is lost.

Then the sun shines,

paths are shown,

many roads to walk on.

Everything makes sense,

blissful is that trance.

It happens to me,

every time I turn to see,

You smiling.