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,




The Fallen Poets

The fall,
Is beautiful,
So beautiful, that we wish for immortality.

The fall,
Is painful,
So painful, it crushes our lonely heart attached to the other.

The fall,
Is hopeful,
So hopeful, it creates the light throughout the dark tunnel.

The fall,
Is dangerous,
So dangerous, it creates the Poets of pain.



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.


Luxury of Sitting by the Window

It was a beautiful Monday morning, the Sun was shining proudly. The flowers bloomed with utter enthusiasm and I…I was in a hurry.
Being consistent with my unpunctuality.
A bus, about to leave with one last empty seat.
“That must have been kept for me”, I thought.
I sat beside the passenger who was by the window, and three other passengers followed.
When it’s hot enough to boil an egg, any form of shade and wind is a gift.
I could feel the wind flowing in, as our bus flew by.
I closed my eyes, with my favorite music playing, I felt calm after a long time. That moment was a blessing, with my eyes still closed, my hair was playing with my smile, teasing my face, I smiled. I tried putting the teaser behind my ear.
“Naughty little thing”.
I realized my hair was more soft and silkier than usual, it must have been the wind. Oh, the power of wind, makes strangers fall in love, makes children excited by the way wind waltzes with their kites.
My train of thoughts was stopped by a soft tap on my shoulder.
I opened my eyes to see a woman by the window who gave me “What-the-hell?” look…I gave her a smile and said “It’s the wind.”, she hissed, moved passed me, got off and got lost in the crowd.
Not even an apology for being so rude.
I took her seat by the window, a luxury of the moment.
“Ah, the wind, sweet, sweet and playful wind,” I said to myself.
I allowed the wind to play with my hair again, with more freedom, to make me calmer.
I waited eagerly, like a child waiting eagerly to eat those two marshmallows, for two is better than one.
I waited.
And I waited some more until my stop arrived.
I wondered why I couldn’t feel that wonderful calmness after I moved closer to the window.
Three words activated my brain back to reality, “WHAT-THE-HELL?” 
I could feel my thoughts rushing in to complete the question- “ARE YOU DOING WITH MY HAIR?”
Then I realized, my hair wasn’t as soft, or silkier, it never had been.
The wind was never really teasing my hair.
Darn it!


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