Sand, sand castle and me

Oh the mesmerizing sand,
I so tried to be with you.
But you belong to the beach.

I also knew it,
yet I attempted,
and build the sand castle

Imagining it a true castle,
I desired many dreams,
And you stayed for few more moments.

Unless the wave,
that brought me back to reality,
what I was aware yet unaware.

And sand went back,
to the beaches,
where it belong.

I still hoped,

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"It” was unable to determine,
why everyone was disgusted on its birth?
Why mother hid "it" from the world?
Why "it" never got affection from elders unlike other kids?
Why world was different for "it"?
Why "it" was molested?
Why "it" becomes the object of cheap humor and lust?
Why "it's" desire to dress up was considered inappropriate?
Why "it" has to suppress the desires?
Why "it" h...

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Desire for authentic amidst pretentious

In this era of pretentious,

how will I choose the Pearl,

among the numerous lustourus fake one.


How will I know if it is authentic,

all look so promising,

shiny, shimmery and beautiful.


Or let the circumstance decide,

with filing of tough time,

authenticity of the Pearl.


When the original remains as it is,

and fake show their true self,

hidden beneat...

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Wing and fin

Wing was the queen,
of her own world,
chirpingly happy with itself.

Fin too was a queen,
of her own world,
uniquely calm in itself.

Amazing they were unless,
they tried to be queen,
in other's world,
and lost themselves,
the wing and the fin.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems

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Classic and commercialization

In this era of commercialization, isn't the literature is getting lost somewhere.Just to get the attention of masses, isn't the free bird literature is becoming the tiger of circus. I miss Munshi Premchandra, Rabindra Bath Tagore, Wordsworth , William Shakespeare and a lot more who use to write to share their ideas not to impress and sell something customized for customer .In this era of commercia...

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With the golden silicon,
Shining in sun,
so mesmerizing it looks,
I tried to hold it in my hand.

But it slipped,
why it can't be with me,
it just kept on slipping,
from my grip.

I thought to set it free,
it doesn't belong to me,
no matter how much I desire,
I set it free

Washed my hands,
and let it be with the land,
free like it is,
setting myself free too.

All poem...

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Dreams and desires

How diverse is the world,
Somewhere greenery somewhere desert,
Somewhere abundance somewhere scarcity,
Somewhere peace somewhere war,
Somewhere conventional somewhere unconventional,
Somewhere roots somewhere kite flying high,
Somewhere undeveloped somewhere glittering technology,

How diverse is the world,
Somewhere a dying kid by malnutrition,
somewhere wastage of food. 
Somewhere a g...

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Hope and sunshine

Sometimes hope is all we want,
just like the  ray of sunshine,
after darkness,
Or the first drop of rain,
after scorching tormenting summer.

Sometimes hope is enough to spread the smile, 
for the face that wept all night. 
To try again with all the strength, 
for the one who failed again. 

Yes, sometimes hope is everything, 
like the words "Don't worry everything gonna be alright" 

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Equality and empowerment

What is it?
Is it about being superior,
Or being inferior, 
Or dominating, 
Or submissive. 

What is it? 
Is it being loud or noisy, 
Or outraging the modesty, 
Or just to be a rebel to prove it, 
Or to discard culture stating it old fashion, 

Or it could be
Soft and sensitive, 
Genuine and kind, 
Feminine and strong,
Calm and peaceful. 

Or it  could be
to stand up after the s...

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Partition: Nightmarish verity

The blood of the dreams,

screams of people,

turning the soil from brown to red,

Janeu somewhere, kara somewhere,

while the namaj topi stained red lying somewhere.


Unable to distinguish the blood,

if it were of kid, mother or father,

or of Hindu or Muslim or Sikh or Christian, 

because it was red for all, 

unlike the religion of deceased.


The haunted house,


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Janeu: sacred white thread worn by Hindukara Bracelets worn by Sikh religious significanceNamaj Topi: sacred cap worn by Muslim


"Mom, the day I grow up,

I will earn lot of money

and will gift you all the luxury." 

A kid promised his mother,

seeing her in old faded saree.

Kid grew up,

earned lot of money,

but forgot his promise. 



All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems

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Me and my poetries❤️

Leave my thoughts alone,

with the dash of time and few drops of ink, 

and I will gift you Poetries ❤️


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Storm and sunshine

Storm and sunshine

Sunshine is brightest,
After the stormy day.

Rainbow shines, 
after the rain.

Loses every battle, 
to conquer many things. 

Every loses are irreplaceable, 
yet many victories are the consolidation. 

One discover themselves,
after the toughest time.

And this is what known as

Storm and sunshine. 


All poems are copyright of the originating author...

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Tale of tiny wings

That little bird, 

With her tiny wings, 

dreams to fly and touch the sky. 


She saw her siblings flying, 

and so her neighbors, 

and so everyone. 


She too tried, 

flapping her wings, 

jumping from the nest. 


She fell down, 

her wings were not strong enough, 

unlike her aspirations. 


She injured her body, 

and she waited to be physically str...

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Poetry - The painting of soul

Words are the colors,

on the strokes of thoughts,

the beautiful the thoughts, 

mesmerizing is the painting 

enchanting the soul,

also known as poetry. ❤️✨

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Darkness and light

The clutter of

insecurities, phobia and nightmare,

in my heart, 

Can't reject you anymore. 

I accept them. 

The way I accept,

confidence, strength and dreams.

To keep the balance,

for realistic approach.

Darkness and light, 

both makes me a human, 

perfection blended with streaks of flaws. 

Accepting them was  my first step

towards accepting myself. 



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"You are gorgeous" he said.
"I am, only when I am with you" she replied. 
The blush on her cheek, 
smile adoring her lips, 
proved her words.

All pieces of art are the copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' work 

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Generally I write about social taboos and issuesthis is something different I tried today.

Rose - Petals or Prickles

Petals and prickles, 
beautiful and painful. 
Spread on the path,
somewhere petals,
somewhere prickles. 
Just like the passing phase of life. 
Sometimes stepping on the petals. 
Sometimes hurt by stepping on prickles,

Petals teaching us the kindness,
encapsulating millions of memory in fragrance. 
Prickles being hurtful, 
hiding the drudgery, 
teaching us self defence and making one ...

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Just let it fly

Just let it fly, 
With the flow, 
Like Dandelion with the air, 
What you can't control or change, 
Pain and happiness, 
This shall pass too, 
Like muddy water settling with time.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others'



This poetry is inspired by the preaching of Gautam Buddha who once said just like ...

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Victim or criminal

Why she stepped out in dark?
Why she trusted him?
Why she wore provocative short dress?
Why she giggled at him?
Why is she loud?
Why she glanced at him?
Why she made her first move?
Why she can't be like others? 
Why she need justice now?
Why can't she forget and forgive?
Why she is breathing now?
Why she don't care of her loved ones?
Why she can't be silenced now?
Why she is un...

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It's all right

It's all right,

It's all right to take a break,
after the long journey,
after the exhausting expectation,
after being strong for so long.

It's all right to pause,
after running so long,
after winning and fighting,
after all the heartbreaks and pain.

It's all right to recharge yourself,
and be vulnerable for few moments,
after being strong for so long,
after taking stand for so lo...

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Little girl's dream

That little girl,

with twinkle in her eyes,

ran with her little feet on the earth,

a mischievous smile on her face,

with innocence in heart like blessing of God.


That little girl has a dream,

along with many other dreams,

she was busy in collecting coins,

treasuring each and every penny.


She saved from her pocket money,

sacrificing candies to save few coins.


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Move on

Move on


The word she heard the most,

but never knew it's true meaning,

unless she implemented it.


Move on

The suggestion she got the most,

for her broken soul or abusive relationship or broken dreams or the betrayal.


Move on

The easiest two words said by others,

yet difficult to implement for self.


Move on


But the day she really moved on,


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The thirsty earth

The sun which was once loving,

danced with fierce rage,

burning up the earth,

with the torturous heat,

turning ambience dry and burning,

making the earth to scream for gentleness.


Her heart was burning,

so her surface,

The cracks on her lips

and streaks of dry leaves,

her charm was evaporating in the air.


She just wanted to be like what she was before,


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