Midnight Snacks for Thought


At last,

Here I am,

Not chasing anyone anymore,

Tired, hurt like never before,

But, somehow I am still waiting,

Even when I had enough of sightseeing,

Just because of that sweet word called Hope,

Writing poems of pain and trying to poetically cope,

Finding solace in pain, finding a home in the hopeless.



The Writer and The Poet

There are moments in a day,
Where her heart cries out soft tears of painful love,
Love for the one,
The one who wrote from his heart,
The one who was the beautiful art.
The one for whom her love grows,
Every moment he is missed,
Every moment he is remembered.

Has he forgotten her?
In his love, she fell,
And she is still falling.
Since, then her heart has been an empty shell,
Maybe a lonely hell.
Maybe she is in love with the idea of having someone to miss,
Maybe she is in love with the idea of going through the pain just to remember him,
Maybe…maybe she is in love with the memories that is more of a dream,
The excruciating emptiness in her heart,
Carries certain heaviness that somehow makes her feel calm.
Irony, could be another name,
How could she feel empty and yet feel so heavy?
How could she feel calm and yet so much in pain?
How could she be full of love and yet feel so empty?
Maybe to create her poetry she needs to remember to miss him, The Writer.
Maybe she needs to feel that she is still breathing in his memories.
Maybe...maybe she feels so lost, his memories are the only way to find herself.

A song takes her back to him,
Back to those moments when they shared happiness, and love,
To the world, she was the happiest of souls,
To herself, the lost soul;
She would take the pain of the broken hearted,
She would give them the love they needed,
She knew exactly how it felt to have a heart broken,
Yet, she knew, there would be no one for her,
To feel her pain,
To feel her sorrow,
So, she drowned herself in her own words of sorrow.

Tried and Tired

I tried,
I tried to open up,
I tried to love,
I tried to be loved,
I tried,
I tried until I tired myself.

I saw the light at the end of every dark tunnel-
I walked through,
I saw the bright side of things that were too dark for my eyes to even open up.
I saw the water half full in every glass that was on the verge of shattering,
I saw them all,
Maybe I was that light at the end of that dark tunnel,
Maybe I was that bright side in those darkest of moments,
Maybe I was that half full glass of water, on the verge of a breakdown; 

I was,
I was a shoulder to be cried upon,
I was there when no one was.
I tried,
I was,
I loved,
I got hurt,
I got hurt,
Over and over, and over again,
It's almost funny;
Maybe I was that glass on the verge of shattering,
Maybe I was those darkest moments,
Maybe I was the dark tunnel.

I stood up head held high,
Every time I fell,
And now I am tired...
Tired of falling,
Tired of hurting,
Tired of waiting,
Tired of fixing,
Tired of wishing,
Tired of being hopeful,
Hope, I shall keep to myself,
For, without hope I shall not be able to live,
For, without hope, I shall just breathe,
But to truly feel the beauty of monumental breath,
I shall keep hope.

At last,




Shall I be the Night Owl and admire the glowing clusters of million Stars in the night sky,

Or shall I be the Early Bird and bathe in the glorious rays of the Morning Sun?

Whatever I shall be,

I shall choose to be me.

For neither the Sun nor the Stars,

Have ever stopped to shine for me, 

I shall choose to be an admirer of both,

As the Night Owl and the Early Bird,

I can always escape the empty clouds.



She then heard his voice,
With her heart beating faster every moment that passed,
Unable to say anything,
Unable to breathe,
She felt her smile growing,
The cold in her warming,
Four months, 5 days and 14 hours,
With so many wishes that flew by,

With so many dreams that saw the night,
Of him and her,
Of being together,
Only to wake up to the sad reality,
To his absence,
To a bitter reality that made no sense,
But today, his voice was enough,
His Hello was enough,
Just to quench her thirst,
Was she dreaming?

But it was more sweeter and warmer than the dreams of him,
It was real,
He was there,
She felt alive,
After months that felt like ages,
That felt like she was locked up forever in her own cages,
She finally felt calm.

6 April 2016


"The Wind is not enough, bring in the Storm!",
Demanded the great old Tree to her Gnome;
A baby Tree was killed,
The sad broken heart could never be healed.

The calm sky turned grave dark,
A beholder would howl and bark;
The happy clouds started to weep,
The heart that was broken was just too deep.

The wind howled with such agony,
Scaring away that walked the great land and the sea;
The flowers shook with sudden fear,
As the Great Old Tree shed her tear.

"Let the storm fill the void that linger.",
Said the Great Old Tree, that lost the baby tree on the roots of her finger;
The Moon was wounded with silence,
Of the baby tree that was a home to many winged friends.
-28 Feb, 2016


Dis-crowned Humanity

So much tear,
So many who fear;
So much pain,
Timeless death;
Innocent blood,
Raising the flood.
So many cries,
So many lies;
Bloody war,
Bombs flying afar;
Children running,
Parents burning,
Homes destroyed,
No pain they could avoid,
Schools shut down,
Humanity dis-crowned,
Hunger everywhere,
No one to care,
Little palms,
Asking for alms,
Political lies,
This is where Humanity dies.
God exist?
I do not know, for this,
Why is life full of sorrow,
For the ones who have no tomorrow?
I wish I could save them all,
But, alas! How can I when I am afraid to fall?