The world killed the poet in me

I think the world has killed the poet in me. Or rather, the world has killed the poetry in me. As I grow older, I find myself becoming more practical, sensible, and logic-driven than I was as a child. As a child, I had my head up in the clouds, I loved poetry, I had… Continue reading The world killed the poet in me

Hi S,

Hi S,  How are you doing? You probably don’t read my blog, but I felt like writing you this letter anyway. It’s been two and a half years since we parted ways. And it’s been a little over two years since I have seen your face. I hope you’re doing well. I hope you’re happy… Continue reading Hi S,

What’s mine and what’s yours

You came into my home and settled in On day 1, it was my mug, my towel and my blanket It was you laying in my bed, drinking my water and looking out my windows But on day 2, momentarily; They became your mug, your towel and our blanket We laid in a bed, not… Continue reading What’s mine and what’s yours

Staring at the sky

Have you ever laid on the grass, the concrete or your terrace and looked at the sky? Have you left that overwhelming sense of peace washing over you as you watch the clouds float, the colours changing and the lights fading? It's absolutely beautiful, wondrous, mesmerizing even. It's meditative. Nothing else matters in those moments.… Continue reading Staring at the sky

The eye of the storm

Does anyone else ever get this feeling that absolutely engulfs you. It tells you to write, draw, paint, create. It fills you up and you feel like a cup about to overflow. It's a little overwhelming, no doubt; yet the weight of that feeling on your chest is something you welcome. For me, the feeling… Continue reading The eye of the storm

Love: A poem

I feel so privileged to have found a love like the one I did at so young an age. I feel privileged to have learned every little thing this love taught me. I feel privileged to have lived it. And I feel privileged to have felt it. Love from time to time,when things get darki'll… Continue reading Love: A poem

There are some days

there are some days there are some dayswhen my heart tells mewait, pauseset your phone asidepick up that memory you've been avoidingthink about it,touch it again,live it again.my heart tells mewait, pausesit still,let your soul connectwith someone else'smiles away from you.it tells mego, listen to that song againsway to its melodyand let it fill you.… Continue reading There are some days

There are some nights

Most poetry I write is a product of two whole minutes of just feeling whatever it is I'm feeling and putting it into words. This is one of those, from last night. There are some nights There are some nightsWhen I want to cry, but I can'tInstead, I rock back and forth in the darknessWilling… Continue reading There are some nights

I was not made for fickle hook ups, casual dating or plain, old fucking

I wrote this one when I was seething with intense emotions that drove me to spit out all my thoughts into writing. Though, I do believe in every single word I've written in this one (even though I may act otherwise, sometimes). i was not made for fickle hook ups, casual dating or plain, old… Continue reading I was not made for fickle hook ups, casual dating or plain, old fucking

It’s been years

On the same day I wrote the 'for music, art and love', I dedicated an ode to the feeling I feel when I write. It was truly exhilarating. it's been years it has been years since poetry has flowed within mesince it has ebbedand ripplied within my very beingsince it has felt like electricity coursing… Continue reading It’s been years