WordPress weekly photo challenge#1

All time favorites#1

With each sip of dark coffee,

Inhaling every bit of dark thoughts,

Pulled by the gravity of being alone,

Pushed by the fear of getting torn.


Blurring the bereaved moments of the day,

Focusing on meager joy on the way,

Though negligible as they say.

Via WordPress weekly photo challenge: all time favourite#1

Power of poetry


An art of writing, 

lucid and unique,

Some being expressive,

Some being undefined,

Based on the reader’s state of mind.

Beautiful verse,

With unadorned words,

Like a riddle,

Has different ways to interpret,

Where the words speak for themselves,

Where the words find their relations,

This is the unseen power of a poem.

It dig the meaning so deep,

Can calm down the savage beast.

It adds beauty without any makeup,

From the beginning till the end.

Filled with true emotions and thoughts,

With few words to construct,

Meant to touch  the reader’s heart.

In the sea of rhythm and imagination,

It can instill new set of perceptions.

In the strength of words so pure,

It can unchain the tamed soul.

The resonance of its rhythm,

Becomes the voice of the person,

Who is not allowed to be spoken.

The set of poetic words,

Creating an unknown whirlwind,

Where the time can stand still.

The virtue of poetry,

Is the channel of receptivity,

Is the healing avenue,

One must pass through.


Via daily prompt: relate

Dedicated to my writer’s block

Stuck in the sphere

of my writer’s block,

Like the infinity loop

Of my scattered thoughts.

Whirling on and on,

Just covering the perimeter,

But never make it to center,

Unaware of the actual depth,

With no grip at the loosing ends.

Some Blurry outlines of thoughts,

With parallel tangents and chords.

No hope of intersection,

And mere chances of coordination.

Makes me question my genius,

What’s the depth of my speculation,?

Do I know the radius of my imagination?

Is it due to lack of inspiration,

Or a shortfall in my dedication?

Oh wait,

Maybe it’s due to full of anticipation,

And I can give some blame to my confusions.

A loads to say,

And a scads to hide.

My unadorned thoughts,

Have a hard time to decide.

Some wants to stay low,

While some wants to fly.

Why can’t I gather them all,

Why can’t I convince them all,

To converge and fit in a single spot,

To make some sense in my blank cardboard.

But all I have,

Are some metaphors and cliché,

Ready to crack my writer’s block again,

But I won’t fill my cardboard this time

Again with some metaphorical lines.

I’ll talk to myself in a while,

To figure out thoughts in my mind.

Conflicted psyche..

Swirling thoughts,

A tornado of insights,

Wandering at midnight,

In the gardens of both gentle and vile,

With parallel ends that will never meet.

Sitting here in my own mind,

Consuming it as a whole,

Like a black hole.

Falling into the pits,

Of my own conscious,

In the search of a golden thread of destiny,

To secure its absolute certainty,

By ignoring the question of its reality.

It’s an endless cycle,

With the repetitive recital.

Where the time simply slips into the void,

To fill my soul with lies,

Pretending them to be real and wise.







My writings abridge,

My ink drifts.

Is this due to,

my thoughts interruption,

My collapsed motivation?

Or I just have

Scribblings and snippets,

From spur of my moments.

Some unfinished scripts,

From blurred past and present.

Affix together too often,

Yet fall apart too fast.


Via daily prompt: snippet

Beauty in conflicts (revisited)..

To defend or deny what you think is a sign that you are alive. You are definitely allowed to be inconsistent, contradictory and unbound by conventions. But still your job should be finding a neutraliser for your emptiness of existence and not just to succumb to forelornness.

Just because your path is different doesn’t mean you are lost. You are creating a new path, according to your adaptiveness for either brightness or darkness.

You don’t have to be equitable within the circle just to label yourself as a sane person because sanity is the insanity which is the new normality for the society, a persistent cozy lie.

You can be an amiable, cordial person, with a kind heart, and still say no. You can have your limits. It’s true that you have to act in concert to live in the world, but to survive as yourselves, you have to act alone and decide.

If someone is hesitating to choose between you and someone else, help them in making their decision by stepping aside and telling not to choose you. Why bother their hesitation. Right?

You can either provoke the chaos of your conflicting impulses or you can calm it down. You are the creator of your own riddle and trying to solve it just to save yourself from boredom. You are the conflict. You can make it productive by critically creating creative ideas.

You are your only limit. Fears that you don’t face become your limits. Never succumb to these fears. People will definitely push to your limits, but when you finally fight back, you will become the mean one. Let it be. I call it having mastery on yourself which comes from consistently going beyond your limits. I call it enlightenment which comes from expanding your consciousness from the present limits.


Guard of her secrets

Everything was simple,

Pure innocence, devoid of all imposters.

And then she grew up,

Her virtual world was faded,

And its actual mask was revealed,

where she can’t be forever elated.

Everything changed for her,

From her ponytail to braided hair.

From her jolly games to knotty maneuvers.

From her carefree humor to guarded secrets.


Now she guards her heart like lock and chain,

She holds the key to her secret island,

Keeping all of her secrets to herself,

Guarded with her own emotions.

She handles her glass of life gingerly,

Mixing her sweet and bitter memories elegantly.

She steps forward, curious yet cautious,

Listens to her inner voice and intelligence,

To prevent herself from vicious influence.

She is the guard of her secrets,

Her life and her judgements,

Keeping them all in the backyard of heart,

Whose walls are built tough and tall.


Via Daily prompt: Gingerly


Not to yield, but to tame the ego.

His atrocious ego,

Shaped by his thoughts,

Repleted with distorted truth,

Paradoxical and awed.

His starving ego,

Now feeds upon his soul.

Bit by bit,

Still looking for the whole.

His mercenary ego,

Rules his heart,

Masks his true identity,

Keeping his good deeds apart.

This ego should walk away,

To subside his cause of pain and hatred,

The root of losing his temper.

His ego should go in wane,

To see what’s honest and sane.

To enlighten what’s dark and gloomy

To bind what’s crushed in vitality.

His ego should not be allowed to stay,

To make him learn, love and care every day.

To set him free, to turn his pages,

From the stuff that bounds him by cages.

To strive, to seek, to find his soul,

Not to yield, but to tame his ego.


Via daily prompt: Enlighten