Love, Poetry


If there was

an afterlife

a beforelife

or millions of past before this one;

I am ever sure

we were lovers

and soulmates

for each and every life

for how can a love

flare so abyssal and wild

while so tame and familiar

all at once;

How is it possible for I

to just look into

your deep amber eyes

and know that

I will hold you

till the end of time

till beyond this life

and for all of my remaining lives.



Their Stories


The salesman slumps in a corner

sluggish indolent creature

you intuit;

The beggar clothed in filth and rips

before him sits a hat with barely any shillings

probably someone

who doesn’t even try in the beginning;

An angry husband

simmering so heatedly at

his downtrodden wife

you think this may be

an abusive relationship;

But wait

you just haven’t heard of their stories;

The salesman just had

an extremely long night with three hours of sleep

struggling two or three jobs

to feed his newborn twin babies;

The beggar you just strutted past

without sparing any change

was an orphan

in and out of foster homes so ruinous

running away seems like

it would be a better life to seek;

The raving husband

you just prejudiced against

was actually a loving spouse

since they met at twenty

till three decades later when

he found out she was cheating;

Yet how can we

ever know of these stories

when our eyes can only

see so much primitively;

Widen your mind

watch with your heart

and never assume

more than how much

your eyes can do

then maybe one day

you will be able

to see their stories too.

Photo by Louis Lo on Unsplash




Hold your tongue

shush your lips

halt the beads of acid

that’s coming caustic;

Don’t say it’s a joke

for nothing is worth laughing to

when it’s demeaning;

Don’t vindicate it with

it’s a habit or it’s just me

for that is just an excuse

for a choice to be nasty;

Words can hoist

Words can liven

Words can heal

although words can burn

through tissue too;

So why speak of malice

when you can in clemency

why proliferate acid

when you can instead

illuminate sunshine too.

Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

Love, Poetry

Last Chance

This is the last chance

you are ever having

this is the last time

I am ever trying;

Piecing a million bits of

raw lovers’ feelings

Forging steel-hard trust within

something that always seemed lacking

Creating new fragments of memory

which lately we haven’t

been doing for quite a bit

Putting in effort and sincerity

for the other party

instead of just assuming they know it;

But before you

reprimand me

for being near the verge of resigning

I just need you to know

never have I prayed this much;

But if we aren’t meant to be

as cliche as it may seem

then no heaven or skies can aid us

let alone

if it’s just me.

Love, Poetry

Her Ring

Wrapped around her svelte finger

the fourth finger to be exact

his fingertips still prancing

between her knuckles

and the silver shined circlet

I love it

she whispered with reassurance;

She really did

it hugged her finger so nicely

silvery with a coral pink gem

perched on it

the intricacies of the pink rock

resonated with her the most

manifesting how beautifully complex

relationships can be

how bliss and weariness

can exist on the same page

how love can be

entangled with almost every

binary of emotions that exist out there

and nevertheless still be as stunning;

Caressing her fingers

gaze set on the silver painted

cotton band with

a nib of pink stone

he murmured

I’ll get you one

with a diamond stone

on platinum one day

I promise;

Embracing him whilst

his fingers still on hers

she affirmed

Even then

will I still have

this ring on

I promise.

Love, Poetry

Part Of


She loved


of all seasons

dewy, mildly prickly

with the rustling of

red green yellow ones

soothing her mind

like how the breeze does to her skin;

She loved


no matter what shape and sizes

they come in

their pillar of brown just gives her

as much majestic feeling as it does

with serenity

two things which she never imagined

could coexist;

She loved

the sea

of how crushing waves and gentle tides

seem to hum a song

that never fails

to stir her feelings

of how the smell of the seas seemingly

gives her a breath of new beginnings;

Nature was in her

She was part of her;

and somehow

she loved


as if he was part of all

the trees, leaves and seas

that she was so

passionately intrigued with;

She loved him

as if

he was a part of nature

that was bestowed on her.

Photo by Thomas Kelley on Unsplash