Evermore, Ever Mine

To the song that has me imprisoned in love and is often my only escape from world,

you touch me slow, kiss my hollow breaths
placing a finger right where it hurts
aching the life out of me, but for what it’s worth
your whispers grow on me ever so softly
yearning for more, i scream and beg and wallow

mere din khushi se jhoome, gaayein raatein
pal pal mujhe dubaayein jaate jaate

you make me shed rivers of joy & laugh at my misery
like it’s a plan all along to have me visit bitter-sweet memory
wouldn’t you rather knife my gut like a decent killer?
the unforgiving ways have me caught up with life, time and again

haaye aise main nihaaroon, teri aarti utaaroon
tere naam se jude hain saare naate

giving in to prayer of love, summoning the gods
for the underlying harmonium with holy awakening
only gets lucid enough as you let thyself consume in love
my devotion is yours to blame, my heart, your keepsake

yeh naram naram nasha hai, badhta jaaye
koi pyaar se ghunghatiya deta uthaaye

the restraint will only go so far, why bother at all?
the indulgence leads me to up above and farther away
i often see my beloved there, at not much distance
with his hands in the air but his soul not quite there

main toh teri, tu hai mera

featured image by divaniindia

Ode To Petrichor

To my romanticism for rain and traces that it leaves on my heart,

an azured morning shifting its palette
to a mourning gloom of melodramatic greys
and the light graze of southern moist wind
that would wind up to peck my bare shoulder
only to bear within a longing to kiss for
centuries and coming days

wearing a clouded scent of melancholia
sent from a meadow of dewy wilderness
made of vehemently black & thunderous night
like a knight in armour with stance as shield
but stands no chance against the Zeus and
would rather fucking yield

the musical drama of immensely heavy pour
cascading its way inside through a tiny pore
that weigh me down by soaked sulk & sorrow
but awakening of petrichor mellows me down
and with a low hush sound of crippling need
i revive myself from sound sleep
to breathe again and breathe deep

A Piece For Peace

To the man playing flute at every sunset hour,

you stay around, in my own vicinity
far from my knowledge of your name & face
but probably in the closest proximity

for i often am bewitched by your
flute playing shenanigans at every day break
and long for the meditative sounds while the
cooing of cuckoo is a tad too much to take

it’s the saddest symphony that you play
either graving the gray old grief only so
you can put it to rest again, or you too are
a person easily enticed by the sad stairway

a head full of curly hair i hope and the
indistinct facial features says my imagination
working a full time job with the cheapest band
of flock of birds with their stupid citation

regardless of when the mystical tunes
hit my eardrums making peace with its tricks
gingerly caressing all my sorrows and heart
like nothing was ever broken to begin to fix

and for that instance, that very instance
i know no pain in the world
i know no wars dismantling the system
i know no materialism bringing down the poor
i know no hatred between the men of colour

but i know of love,
love that rises above all and heals like no other

The Learning

To my dearest sailor man who has my heart in absolute longing for evermore,

it wasn’t until I saw his face again, had I known what love looked like

and I’ve been since learning the colour his mysteriously light eyes look like.

love had a voice too, almost like a music and his was the only one I wanted to listen

he perhaps had the most beautiful mind, and I was in the awe of the way it worked.

we held hands, love & I and it felt nothing short of a magic at first,

i’ve since been learning the way his fingers would make circles in my palm.

love is now aware of the times i’d need a shoulder to rest my head on,

and I’ve been learning the way he would casually lean a perfect angle to make it a home for my head.

a spark that pulls us closer everyday, like a magnet we craved each other

and I’ve been learning how his arms would wrap around me, and hand so gentle would move against my arm.

remembrance of the time his lips touched the back of my hand and made my world come to a standstill is still my most favourite feelings to learn of love.

love is no good at goodbyes, none of us are and I hope we never learn that.

I hope we instead hug each other awkwardly, be sad and sulk about the fact that we’re gonna miss each other like shit and long for the loving everyday because we damn right will. Screw this poetry I fucking miss you.


To the person who’ll always have a place in my heart no matter what,

And that’s when I exhaled a coy and melodramatic sigh, when they asked me what exactly was it about him?

But oh him. Only I could know how much of an understatement would it be if I had to cage him in a poetry.

He looked like a fresh vintage romance on a tropical beach with summer swaying by the palm trees like it was an onset to a love song.

And the dripping mystery of his words as he spoke, like an artist leaving its magical trail just enough to have them lingered on, will be the end of you.

Reminiscing how his presence has always made me fall to pieces of stardust, but beckoning him the one last time just for my share of eternity.

He looked nothing short of the soul of all the poetries, I’ve ever bled my ink for.