i m a g i n a t i o n s

Pic : Self , Artist: Unknown

it wasn’t
really my fault,
if i held on,
even long after
you were gone,

your favourite songs,
even the one’s
that weren’t

your presence alive,
is such
a wondrous tool,

the streets alone,
in the company
of conversations,
long silenced by time,

to the seasons,
holding the constant
that remained
in my mind,

but you were
so very worth it,
even in the moments
that i lived
in a fools paradise,

and i still smile
when they say,
“your fault
you held on for so long”,
long after, you were gone.




d i s c o u n t e d

sold on discount
i often wonder
my worth,

did my
value fall,

or was there
just an
inherent need,

to clear out
my irrelevance 
on the shelf,

do i now live below
my creator’s value
of me,

or just pretend
to be worthy

of the price,
that you paid
to own,

my this
discounted worth.



p r i o r i t i e s

Pic: Self

you own
your skies,

it by choice,

your priorities

in the pieces
that shine,

i disappear

much like
the moon,

bit by bit
night by night,

till your sky
is clear,

of any trace
of mine,

the moon
by habit,

still does

but i seek
a sky,

where i am
the sun.



a u t u m n

Pic: Pinterest

of my existence,

still lying
as i left them around,

in words
i came alive,

in words
i sang my world,

my story
now left behind,

on paper
that gave refuge,

did i try to build
a monument,

or was it just water
that needed to flow,

was it an attempt
to preach,

or was it the need
to unlock my own doors,

did i
play with words,

or did my emotions
play me,

does it even
really matter,

when one’s time
is done,

reminders of my

will someday
fade like me,

pages scattered
like leaves,

as autumn
embraces me.


10Oct 17

b e g i n n i n g s

Pic: Internet

have you ever
lost a piece
of writing,

where years
of ink rested
in short stories,

some complete
to your mind
yet not fully,

some started
and left to thaw
for a revisit,

have you ever
lost a piece
of you,

in the words
on those
missing sheets,

knowing the past
will never
find ink again,

and the blank sheets
that now
lie in front,

will only sip
those drops
that tell a story,

which has
a beginning
in today.



s h i e l d s

Pic : Self

hey you there
deep inside of me
calling yourself
my holy soul,

what do you know
the turmoils
this callous world
puts me through,

my body aches
with the cuts and pains
this world inflicts
on the visible only,

while you silently 
hide behind
the shield i provide
to shelter you,

hey you there
i need you now
not for any
battles to fight,

just be fair to me
for once
be my shield
for i need to hide.



s e a s o n s

Pic : Self

seasons change
and what a blessing
that they so
predictably do,

stretch that analogy
to people around
and yes, i say
they change too,

you say
once their purpose done
like seasons
they must move on,

and those that stay
consistent throughout
like the sun
are far and few,

i nod
in agreement
and so does
the old tree,

it has seen
them change
and learnt to grow
through each.