The Lost Road

I missed his silent footsteps beside mine,
That made the stones melt;
I missed his silent smile next to mine,
That melted my heart into a racing beat;
I lost myself trying to find him,
He, that lost me.


If Only, He; (Part I)

She has her lost gaze,
Lost somewhere between her thoughts,
Lost among her dreams and her nightmares,
Lost following her heart,
The unbearable pain,
Is a friend for her solitude,
Her smile is as empty as her gaze,
Those tears remind her of the broken pieces of her heart,
She wishes to wake up from this nightmare,
If only he cared.


Lost Gaze
If only, he; (Part I)


The great cascading mountains were hidden away by a blanket of dusty air of Kathmandu,
The glorious mountains could be seen once in a blue moon,
Oh, how magical the sight was,
It was thrilling even,
It only appeared when the cloud of dust settled,
And when the forgotten moment took stage,
I’d stare with sudden awe,
Like the magician revealing the beautiful dame,
From under the covers,
Or the rabbit out of the hat,
That is how it felt,
The dusty air of Kathmandu,
Revealed the beautiful dame,
That glorified the pupils of my eyes,
It was a moment of ecstasy to be alive,
Surreal even,
To a point where my existence,
Would seem pointless if it had not been for nature’s glorifying revelation,
Hidden all throughout the year with blinding dust,
Revealed only when Nature decided to take its course.

The dust, of course, had its hand stretched out,
Taking the breath of anything or anyone,
That had the audacity to breathe,
Just like the great mountains,
We were forbidden to be revealed.

#19oct, 2017 12.15- 12.21

Words & Paragraph

Your words,
Were tinted with roses made of glass,
Words that made me feel loved;
You became my many chapters,
Though you left after a paragraph,
And what paragraph it was,
Epic and beautiful.
Gravity was not to be blamed,
That thirst quenchable paragraph had it all,
How was I not supposed to fall for you?
Those rose-tinted words,
That epic and beautiful paragraph,
Had it all,
This is where I made the fall,
But you were too afraid to catch me at all,
Like a fallen star,
I fell,
But I am not to be wished upon,
For the pain,
Is too strong it’s worth.


The Flute

As a child,
His father played a tune so beautiful,
For him to fall asleep,
After a day of playing in the street,
He was happiest when he played for him.

He would fall asleep on his father’s lap so warm,
Looking at the stars that glowed full of hopes and dreams,
Other nights,
He would fall asleep on the lap of his Mother,
Whose warm hands perfumed of paddy field,
Such was his world,
Small, yet had the happiness of the entire world.

#September272017 #MinutePoetry



Fire, Part I

He was a breath of fresh air,
Even with a broken heart,
His love was deeper than any,
She could see it,
She could feel it,
She could believe it,
For she was a broken soul too.
It is said that when a loving heart is broken,
Too many times,
They don’t give up until they do for the happiness of another,
Until their souls catch fire,
That burns them with agony,
With despair,
Hope becomes a sharp thorn,
Grown with poison,
Hope haunts them,
Drowning them in their own pain,
She was that thorn,
Grown with poison,
But never born with.
Pain turns into agonizing story
Tears turn into haunted painting,
Screams turn into grievous poetry.
But, he was different,
His soul was in passionate agony,
Burnt by the one he loved so dearly,
She could see it,
She could feel it,
She could believe it,
She could love him forever,
For she was a broken soul, too.
Pulling them together,
Near the passionate flame,
For once in her life,
She felt happy to feel the warmth of that flame,
She felt at home,
She felt at peace,
For once in her life,
This was going to be a happier story,
This was going to be a beautiful poetry,
This was going to be a peaceful painting.
She could see it,
She could feel it,
She could believe it,
She could love him forever,
For she was a broken soul, no more.