Poetry, Quill


I know you can,
I know you will,
It’s just another obstacle,
Just another hill,
The shimmer of the twinkling stars,
And the rich vivid sky,
Would heal your scars,
And bring you closer to new highs,
Majestically the birds fly,
And swiftly the fish swim,
Ruminating on their flaws they do not sigh,
Because they are determined, bold and vim.
The lands are free
and the seas endless.
Just as you should be bright and boundless!
And all of this dauntless nature resides inside you.
Because if nature is your life, you are it’s dew.

Poetry, Quill

Street Number 5

Just beside the corner

Along the turn

Where the sidewalk bent

A narrow path

Of shadows, spaces and similarities

Shadows between spaces

Spaces with similarities

Similarities of differences

Walking-tracing imprint left of silhouettes

Faint trails filling straits of void

And short steps covering their lenghts

Just beside the corners

Where the sidewalk bent

A pave, rather weary

With leaves, life and imprints

Leaves of life

Life amongst imprints

Imprints with verve

Ambling-unearthing the beauty of the silhouttes

Vivid reflection bore rills of tranquility

Thus blest the bends ahead.

Poetry, Quill


I am shoved under,
My opinion is shushed,
My soul, sundered.
Day after day, scorching my existence
Day after day, disdaining my resistants
Worldly affairs might burn me down
Turn me into ash and extol my breakdown but,
I am the PHOENIX and I’ll rise from the ground.
I am the PHOENIX and I’ll rise from the ground.

Poetry, Quill

The Weaver

Amidst the rain
Amidst the thunder
There was a tiny weaver
Seeking to build itself a nest
Typical yet stood out the rest.
The tree swirled a million times
The twigs kept falling off the climb
Still determined.
That bird endured the bitter clime
It tried and tried until the nest held shape
And not for once did the bird even attempted an escape
What startled me the most was not the nest
It was average looking yet better than the rest
What startled me the most was the bird.
Its persistence its trivial and its pluck
And if that tiny weaver could brook such a hefty trap
What has made us handicapped?

Poetry, Quill

A Vintage Rustic Smell I Love

There used to be a candle on my table

Placed under an old, frail drawerIt carried souvenirs of the yore

And a vintage rustic smell I loved

It was kept the same way, unlit and unsoiled in perpetuum

But one day,I broke the rule,

And with a match the candle bloomed

It illumed the room and dismissed my gloom

I re-lived my dearest treasuries

That night, I re-lived my precious memories

By the next morning the candle had deliquesced

What left of it was its melted wax and its pleasant whiff

My room smelled the same as my candle did

A vintage rustic smell I loved

Which reminded me of memories beloved.

Poetry, Quill

A Seed of Love

A seed of love planted deep in the heart
Its roots steadily seizing the entire part.

The first leaf arose with a new beat
Short, soft and sweet.

The first bud arrived with the first titter
Introducing to a being, as sparkly as glitter.

And as the bud bloomed, so did the soul
Begetting a new whole.

I was born this way
I was born of love
And you,
Were too.


A Breath of Fresh Air

Strange. The air smells different today,
Fresh, unruffled and without a trace of dismay.

Brimful, of this zephyr, I inbreathed mirth,
One divine breath, of plenty worth.

Drenched, I am, in this tranquil breeze,
And so immensely packed with elation that I wish time’d freeze.

Poetry, Quill

The Perils of Forever

Its promise enchants us

And assuages our sore hearts

For a yearn to seek solace

Asked, to catch hold of this place

We flit, to seize it

And, to its eternalness we submit.

Even after,

Having known its legacy

We often neglect its tendency

To not exist.

And anew the inevitable never

Triumphs over the non existent forever

Poetry, Quill

From Oblivion

Awake that night
I could hear my heart, beat
Awake that night
I could see my dreams, betide
Awake that night
I could feel my spirit, await

That night was what, I was.

Awake tonight
I can feel my heart’s, glee
Awake tonight
I can see my dream, become a reality
Awake tonight
I can hear my spirit’s, revelry

Tonight is what, I will be.

Poetry, Quill


I am a piece of everything

A ray of sunshine on the first day of spring

A note from the song the nightingale sings.

I breathe with liberty

In the space’s infinity

I am, a flake of divinity.

A drop of the ocean

Filled with emotion

A shard, of selfless devotion.

Yet, I do not belong to anybody

I am my own

Always was

Always will be

But still, a piece of everything.