An Autumn of Thoughts. 


There’s a void in my mind

Fuming  with nothingness.

The vacuum spread

All through out my brain

Killing all the fancy and fantasy

That engulfed it before.

I feel stranded

In a world without words,

Which was akin to

A world without bliss.

Hollowness sealed my mind

Making me feel like a broken toy

Strangling me to an inner death.

Emptiness eked inside

Vaporizing every bit of thoughts

That used to cascade down like a fall.

A grisly feeling of worthlessness

Envelops me

Every time I sit down

By the edge of the bed

Making fruitless attempts

   At penciling pieces of poetry.

Well, writer’s block is a hard stuff, right? My brain runs empty of thoughts every now and then. Yesterday, I thought of scribbling another poem, while my brain was scarce of ideas. That is when I thought of writing a poem on Writer’s block itself. Interesting theme, right? * Lemme pop up my collar 😀 * It didn’t come out real good but somehow I could mirror my feelings. What do you guys think?!?


Lethal Dreams 



There were dreams

Swimming and surfing

In the ocean inside my brain

Dreams that grew with me, and

Desires that I breathed .

And then you entered my life

Not unlike how a nightmare creeps in

During a cozy night slumber.

You turned my life topsy-turvey

And slowly ripped off

My colored dreams.

I collected the fragments

And tried fixing it all back

Like how one fits

The pieces of jigsaw puzzles.

But those shattered dreams of mine

Didn’t fit together

To form my beautiful dreams, over again.

So I shoved those pieces

Behind the books

In the dusty bookshelf

Where not even a ray of sunlight

Would fall and grace the mass.


Those once delightful dreams of mine

Now lay, cluttered in the dark

Not because I didn’t want them

But because you didn’t.

I have heard of people, especially women, who had abandoned all their dreams after marriage. They had sacrificed the life they wanted for the sake of their family. I was seeing a movie last night which portrayed this theme. And I just scribbled a poem. Does it even make some sense??


The Belle


Beauty, they say

Resides in the gleam of one’s skin.

It oozes out from cerise lips

And also from delightful dimples.

It flashes through the eyelashes

And the blush of one’s cheek.


But each time

You lift your face-


By the curve of your lips-

You prove them wrong.


Those scars that line

Every inch of your face

Aren’t blemishes

But they are like sparkles

Adorning your face

The way dazzling stars do

In the mesmerizing darkness

Or the way, colors combine

To form the stunning rainbow.


Each time you smile

You silently say

To the whole damn world

That beauty

Lies in the eyes of the beholder.  

I was inspired to write this poem after reading this phenomenal story about acid attack victim Rupa. I don’t know how good this poem is but I drove home the lesson that ‘ No sorrow is too hard to overcome’.

Respect to all those women who bares their scars like how a proud lioness does.




Swig of Sunshine

I had a sooty sky
Inside this frail body of mine.
The dusk
Swallowed all the cells
And wrapped every organ
In my body.
Gloom filled me,
And brushed even the deepest cavities
Of my heart
Painting my within
In ebony.
There were murky clouds too-
Misconceptions and incertitudes
Mystified into clouds
And cast in the dark sky.

And you penetrated into me
Slowly but elegantly.
You were the sun
Peeping from between
Those dim clouds
Hanging in the inky sky.
From amidst those dull clouds
You emerged out
Embroidered in orange rays
And cloaked the coal black
Inside me
With your incandescent beams
And once again
Splashed in me
The blush of dawn.

Shall I call this a ‘Come Back’ post? So, I am officially unleashed from the shackles of exams. Woohoo! The past few days were boring. Poring over the books and cramming up drained out my peace of mind. EXPECTATIONS- lemme say, it will blow you up ( I think you people got it).

Anyway, in between the exams, I had done many experiments with words ( You got it right, exams didn’t stop me from writing poems!!!) and with this stuff called Visual Poetry. Here is one I have made for this poem.


Do etch down your thoughts on the comment’s space as they matter to me.


From the cray called Adhi.

By this cliff 

I stand by this cliff,

My mind whirling,

With nothingness,

My realm of thoughts,

Smashed into smithereens,

But yes, a small space,

Reserved for fear.

I have nothing to lose,

And nothing  to gain,

This bloody body of mine,

Is a cheap bargain.

There was a vast ocean of methods,

Stretching as far as my eyes can see,

Methods of killing myself,

And escaping from this prison,

Called life.

I thought of jumping into flames,

But if I failed,

I would be left with scars.

I thought of hanging,

But if I failed,

I would be left with broken bones.

And I contemplated,

About millions of ways,

But found that,

Jumping down this cliff,

Was the best of all,

As no one would even get my corpse,

From this depth.

The fear to live,

Gripped me tight,

Hence I chose,

To crumble my life,

Into a shred of paper,

Mangle it,

And throw it down this ridge.

But now,

I fear to die,

For when this very idea of death,

Dances in my mind,

I can’t accept that,

I wouldn’t be in the face of this earth,

To see the glory of the next dawn.

Yet, I prefer death,

Because it’s been so long,

Battling with this life-

Battles where I always fought,

Without a shield of sheer courage or,

Weapons of self-worth.

Battles where  I always lost,

Everyone I loved and,

Everything I treasured.

So, I  decide to die,

But I want to end,

These many years of my breathing,

Not with gloom,

But with glee,

And thus,

I curl my lips,

Into a fabricated smile,

And twitch my feet,

Letting myself loose,

And fall,

Deeper down this bottomless pit,

Ending this eventful saga,

Called life.

The world will still glow,

In the next morning,

And once again,

The folks will begin,

Their hunt for pound,

For what difference,

Shall the loss of this stained soul,

Make in this universe.

P.S- This has nothing to do with my real life. Oh wait! It has got. These monotonous days of sticking with the books, may force me to commit suicide. Exams round the corners and I haven’t started proper preparations. So much to study and so little time, thanks to my procrastination abilities. I’m a pro in killing time, seriously. So as my exams are popping up, my online existence will be oscillating a lot. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to read any beautiful posts of all you amazing WordPressers nor can I post any of my silly ramblings. But I won’t leave you people in peace for so long. I will come back on the 23rd of March to irk you guys even more. Miss me, alright? 😜

Lost (Limerick)


(Image from here)

I was lost in the bookstore,

The air in; perfumed with vellichor,

Shelves sprinkled with pixie dust,

My mind engulfed with wordy lust,

Joy mending my delicate, broken core.



One more new word- Vellichor. And here is the definition:

n. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.


P.S- Written for Weekly Limerick Challenge: Week 8

P.P.S- Rupali; Yes girl, I stole your idea. After all, steal like an artist ( Me? Artist? Nah!)

Home And Hiraeth


Once upon a time;

Under the inky sky,

Lying supine,

Counting the stars,

With you,

Made me feel at home.

But today;

Under the same inky sky,

Lying supine,

Counting the stars,

Without you,

Makes me feel hiraeth.

Today, I stumbled upon a new word. Hiraeth, it is. The moment I found the  word, I thought I should scribble a poem. And this is it-the outcome of the excitement of learning a new word and a disturbed mind.