Posted in Rhymed Pieces

That girl across the window pane.

I look across the window pane

That girl who hanged herself.


They say she was an angel brought to life

A friend in need and a voice so bright.

They’ve lost themselves their only child

A young woman who died last night.


I look across the window pane

That girl who had struggled pain.

A letter that said : She’d better be gone;

There’s not much love for her to hold on.

Words that screamed of endless trials

That she deserved to be loved and admired.

Scribbled across pages were depressing years

And not a friend to share her fear.


I look across the window pane

That girl who could have been saved.

Of a lonely life and busy parents

Of the love she’d never confront

Of how she made no difference

Of the blames, all at once.


I look across the window pane

That girl who lay lifeless.

I watch the grief, the pain in eyes

People sob, yell and cry

Only if she was made to feel

The same; while in need.


I look across the window pane

That girl who died a plight in vain.

These verses reflect and stand for a single cause that suggests “Suicide can never be justified.”

I’d however love to have your opinions on the topic.
The background image used can be found here: Source.

Thank you for reading.

Never let the words fall short! 😊 

Posted in Rhymed Pieces

A Familiar Stranger.

Long queues amidst the hustle-bustle,

Impatient and tensed, folks struggle.

The escalator,when there’s time in hand.

Stairs to dodge the crowd in a minute’s span.


Victorious ,they share a similar spark.

At 9:45, their journey starts.


Vibrant colors,complements her smile.

Faded blue justifies him fine.

Her invasions into the music land,

His trials for a place to stand.


Messed up hair,she tussles to tie,

Neatly done, he fails to mesmerize.


To the tapping of her feet,

His secretive adoration yearn to speak.

Her anxious eyes, await to reach,

And how he wishes for the moment to freeze.


When it’s time for her to depart,

Unnoticed, he stands apart.


A timed interval,and his journey ends.

No looking back, no feelings to rent.

The destination reminds of work,

A cursed life and hard luck.


To the daily metro ride, follows a wait.

A wait,

To meet the familiar stranger, yet again.

P.S.  I stumbled across this poem I had written long back and thought I must share. 

Thank you for reading.

Never let the words fall short! πŸ™‚ 

Posted in Rhymed Pieces

Crumbled pieces.

The crumbled pieces were hard to keep,
Accumulate and you easily give in.
The paradise on the left hardly skipped a beat.
No tremors,no sort of heat.
The eyes weren’t compelled to perspire.
No terrorizing thoughts,no ignition of fire.
Yet,abatement of a human-witnessed.
Silently behind such looks,‘rough’.
Yes,an enameled mortal – left restless.

Truth- an aberrant stuff !

Posted in Rhymed Pieces

Falling in love? Anybody?


He is heard speaking verses left unsaid,
In his eyes, there’s heaven, she had not been to, yet.
He is pictured through moments unloved,
In his smile, there’s healing, she had always longed.

Falling in love is easy;

Rising in it, not so much.

He sips from dark coffee, mostly underrated.
In his touch, there’s rain, she had eagerly awaited.
He hums along her favorite note,
In his voice, there’s music, she had never been told.

Falling in love is easy;

Growing with it, not so much.

He watches her move and master the turns,
In his gestures, there’s happiness, she had wished to learn.
He reads through pages, left unread
In his words, there’s care, she had not wanted to fade.

Falling in love is easy;

Staying by, not so much.

His sketches, reflect her inner self.
In his imagination, lies love, she had never felt.

Falling in love is easy,
Falling out of it, not so much.
Falling apart is still easy,

Getting back, not so much.

P.S. This is the first blog post I posted as a debut here. This will remain special always.

Posted in Rhymed Pieces

Love is never a matter of CHOICE.

If pretty eyes could create all magic ,
If a smile could demolish memories; tragic.
She would have traveled to his land,
Awaited him,while he executed his plans.

If a good luck charm meant a morning embrace,
If small caring gestures could add fun to the slaughtered race.
She would have stayed nearby,
And watched him fly.

If priorities had kept the crave for desires aside,
If life was worth all the shared undue time,
She would have filled in the empty space
And put up through his journey, promisingly safe.

If and only if,

The heart never followed a decision,but an impulse
Little promises were given a chance to take turns
The wink of her eye and the touch of his hand
Would have stayed beyond the limited time span.

To fate,they had risen a toast

And ended matters, by counterfeiting force. 

Such stories embark the end to a start,

Etching memories that would forever last.

The gifted rose gown still offers comfort
Yet nothing compared to his husky voice.
Midnight lamp still reflects memories – absurd.

love is 
a matter of choice.

Posted in Rhymed Pieces

Adversaries of a different sort.

She sings out verses clear and loud.
He intones music when nobody is around.

Strumming the loops,she dreams to fly;
His wishes remain zipped, ‘never tried’.

To every occasion, she networks a mid air hi-5.
He preserves a few,like memoirs from cloud 9.

Dark coffee an hour before daybreak;
His insomniac eyes long to take.
She dresses up for a 5 A.M. walk,
Embracing the breeze with a fresh talk.

Self love predominates her mindless blabber,
His conversations cannot much travel.

When they meet at roadways,crossed.
They make adversaries of a different sort.

His heart skips a beat at the spark in her eyes,
She finds joy in his half dimpled smile !

Posted in Rhymed Pieces

Word to Word.Β 

Dressed in a colorful wardrobe, words speak 
Of uncertainties, anxieties, joy and belief .
Purple, addressing the glorious smiles.
Red, reminiscing the wrongs and rights. 

Black, the usual ink.
Blue, when there’s a mood swing.

Words halt at paragraph ends ,
They italicize, when tension trends,
Underlined, they make memories count.
Capitalized, they note down experiences profound.

Handwritten text across ruled lines .
Pages after pages, yellowed with time.

She dwelled in the mightiest world,
Afraid of emotions, restricted her love
To the smell of ink on paper 
And sight of new books to savour.

A year or so, 
A new diary plays no role.
It struggles a place on the back shelf,
Awaiting a storyteller to befriend .

Conversations shared over cold coffee,
Day after day, intertwined souls, oddly.

Words dressed in emotions, 

She chirps all day long.

Words now halt at change of expressions

And he, loves her daily song.