for once;

say what color could another sky be,
where every shade on the palette blots this mankind,
and the hellfires could bare out holy rivers,
sparks, that could startle red wildfires,
pulses slicing a thud, swinging in warfare;
so every colour was a race,
every hello, a quest,
and that rust, a stardust
every demon in human; ever kind a satan,
where the angels could grace sin,
and those let gos could hold on;
making strokes stir and a single stir that could kindle the unstirred,
there every soul could light; every soul could ignite,
where every letter had meaning, every word of mouth went screening

see that drop of ocean holding the rain ashore,
another granule in place, adorning this shore;

there, she says, beauty has flaws;
And we say, flaws possess beauty.



peaceful wait and awaited peace;

wait was when there was beauty in the dark, and even the light could be lighted with terror,
wait was when the sky could set fire and the land could admire,
wait was counting nights till the perfect sunrise; living days to make up to the final moonlight.
but how many stars do we light, how many light years do I fight; waiting for the right?
why does wait hold that much a plight?
and how long do I stand in the light?
for this wait weights me down,
so tell me, how long is too long?
and how long wait could be too much await,
because now I wonder how the pauses could be that perfect; when the play was far read.
for maybe this hold is what we dread.
or maybe this wait, it never had anything to hate,
but now I feel sunken in its weight,
someone tell him to wait, my mate,
for dealing with departures isn’t that great,
but this wait, this wait is all that’s left on my plate;
why could wait not be a time trait?

Dear men,

When she stands, up her towering heels against the guy who molests her in the bus
When her bruises fight back their rights facing her husband
When she denies not to barter herself for the desk at his cubical from 9 to 5
Or when she polishes her child from ABC up through respect every women,

Dear men, i ask you to support her,
For some of her days are hard to hold up to,
While some days hold noose hard up her neck, choking
noose, like the garland woven around her neck, or maybe the metal that rests on her finger.
But the only wires she’s entitled for, is her circlet.

Dear men,
She’s a warrior to bleed out courage over and over,
cause what even was menopause to space it out of her.

They’ve told me she breathes fire, and she refuses to apologize for her spark.
Yet she is termed taken for her beautiful craft and applied condition to her ability.

Dear men,
Credit her for staging the angels and demons on her side.
For there stands a father who believed in her, who supported her, who protected her, and is a backbone to her courage.

All this time you called her beautiful, look up the alliteration that put her to brave and bold blooded, dear men.


​fader than the lightest of greys 

silenced screams off a pink throat

heart gradient red to black, rust 

eyes brighter tangerine hue

hands gripping the pale scratch

cheek bearing purest of of the blue rain 

sensation so numb, purple beat 

white bone blackened it burn 

green layer could crack the skin doubts 

spine flaky chill, off the colour white

but the soul knew no colour in palette, tangling with the brush bristles, it only knew how to pine for.


You promise you’ll be back? swear on me?

Yes I swear on you my love!
She was losing hope like the hour lost his minutes; and when the hands of the clock met, she parted with faith.
That night was a shade darker. Even the moon kept his breath out, as her fire inside burnt a shade brighter.
That heart realized how tough was it for the moon to smile through the dark, and how it curved out every night to make it a little more darker  for her.

Now, she knew the forevers he has been reciting in stories were just a combination of the alphabets from the primer and not words, as beautiful, to be nurtured .
She kept up all night. The monotonous door that night sang his heart out to her. Through the song, she waited for a knock from the other side. Waiting for him to hold her up in arms. Her hair waiting to be caressed. Her forehead waited to be kissed.
The story book waited to be recited.
Goodnight waited to be completed with Daddy.


​The twilight had faded to darkness,

Howling wind and lightening adorned the sky, 

And the gravel-grey upper atmosphere explained the darkest of nights perfectly.

As the darkness spread, she couldn’t bear the weight anymore,

It was heavy for her to keep me inside,

She cried the blue murder, defining the extreme sense of pain.

And out of her cries, I was born.

Through the screams of skies, I was born.

Descendant of the blue vault,

Embryo of the cloud; this cloud, my author, at halt.

With heaven in my heart, I take shape,

As soon as I turn into a droplet, I fall down though brave.

Or was I thrown down?

Thrown out of the sky, this sky of endless acceptance.

As if I were a ‘she’ and the sky this society, this earth to tell me I had mere worth.

However with all strength and tenderness, I leave and descend down.

But this journey I’m setting on won’t be easy, for I have left my town.

On the way I meet the dust minuscule, dioxides of uncle sulphur and Ms. nitrogen,

And next were acids ready with hydrogen

They thought they could burn my beauty, and have me customise,

Pity them, for who were they to know I was a girl child with heart of paradise.

I am miles away from home now, but the miles cant distant my heart,

For I covered this distance with rains over sparth,

And this earth could never know about the cardiac beats through garth. 

But this wait is over,

For I can see him tinted with green, frilled with tan and embellished with the stone. 

And the wait is over, 

As he celebrates my homecoming, for I bring confetti for the crop and no dowry to stop. 

And the wait is over,

As our dew laden lips meet and I touch his soul.

We are in love, not arranged by this society and love has no bounds in reality,

Be XS or XL, the curve of letter was changed disparity.

And the wait is over,

When the barren land dances green,

When the thirst of the sand that drenched can be seen,

When the living celebrate the petrichor,

And that scent takes me back for sun to savour.

Only then could I see endless possibilities meet, when the earth and the rain greet.


I walk through,

Deeper in the dark.

With stabbed faith and slaughtered hope,

A punished heart,

And this murdered affection,

Chills in my spine, I slow down.

This place,

I have visited it

When my heart was less than an art,

When my cries where louder than those guitar strikes,

This place.

It welcomes me with open arms,

It accepts me for who I am and where I come from,

People here don’t look at my heels or my chest.

This place is comfortable,

This place is a mirror to my shade.

Through the black, I ignite my soul with memories

And the ashes begin to take shape

Shapes that are not defined by the norms of existence

Shapes that nobody could control

Shapes that couldn’t be seen through the world lens.

And I walk

Straight to those times,

Parallel to those laughs,

Here I coincide with lately lost ache

But this instant seems a decade incomplete.

And this time tried to bury my love,

My heart a seed ,it aged.

And today, I return to this churchyard

As the past, a graveyard of my belief

With graves of hope and grief in bone

Standing with flowers for the asleep, unknown and faceless

For the unknown,







But today, I have come here to bury you

For you have been this cold part of me.

As cold; my blood freezes.

Even my fingernails fight through colours.

And this place, it gives me fire

To burn out, I take wings up in smoke

And as I do that, something in me glows; only I can feel the warmth

And this fire, it gives me charge

So I bury every bit of you,

In this graveyard.

And I dig, but suddenly this soil seems so tight, my throat.

This body of you, so heavy, my heart.

But I collect every organ of mine and put you to sleep

I see you calm and still, as this moon

As this moon who keeps an eye on me as I bid you goodbye,

As this divergence splits into two.

And as the night falls, I await for a new sunrise.


See that horizon, where the boundless extensions of water and the sky meet,

I longed to meet this deserted soul there

I remember to have detached it when I met those worldly puzzles

But then magic stepped in, and I shook hands with my shadow again.

This limitless desert, bleak,

But neither water could curb its existence

Making me want to stand inviolable through harshes.

It’s magic, when the ocean so calm,

With its skin of shimmer, hair of reef

And serenity in her eyes,

Has the might to cause a havoc.

It’s magic,

When the river refuses to turn its way,

When the rocks refuse to change its shape,

And when the birds fly up high,

With hopes and desires,

With them, I build those castles in air, those being fancy things of feathers

So that after these misty nights,

I could see the warm, brighter sides and the illusions of the arc.

It’s the sky then, beyond all bounds,

Exhibiting the fling of the sun and the moon

Giving in a blend of impatience and cheer to savour.

It’s all magic, and it’s all over me, it’s within me,

Playing rummy with my nerves.

Like the butterflies in my stomach finally found their garden,

This magic is completing me, putting me together

And I’m drowning in it, slow

Soaking this long lost beauty of the soil and that within.