The enclosure.

I wrap my mouth

around your

words,

gently yet hastily,

and now,

my lips are stained

with ink,

that refuse to wash

away,

like the scars from

yesterday.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGK6NwgSNtM

My book ‘Warm Delinquencies’ is available on Amazon for worldwide shipping.

You can order it here: http://bit.ly/2gnn6j9.

I'm here.

Paint me in the hues of warmth,

swallow me like the Sun would

consume the Moon,

hold on to me like the sea does to

the shore,

trying hard to take everything the shore

has yet failing incorrigibly,

caress me like the Spring touches

the cherry trees,

the point is, I'm here for falling

and rising and lacking and

wanting,

the point is, I'm here for the

misery.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52FBvP7z2LU

Relinquish.

I loved you

to the

point of vanity,

breaking the

thresholds of all

floodgates and inhibitions,

and now,

it refuses

to relinquish,

it merely and starkly

refuses.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V3Mo61fJM

First home.

I wanted to name our first home

after us,

after our love,

luckily for me,

I had several options to pick from,

ugh...where do I begin?

what do you think of naming it

as 'erratic'?

or do you like the sound of

'wrecked'?

because we won't be the first in

the history of having a

wrecked home,

but then, what about 'pensive'?

I like pensive,

it sounds chic,

what do you think?

you don't have to make a choice

right away,

no, really,

there are more names I could

offer,

I can find better nouns

and adjectives,

but let me warn you,

nothing might sound

more right than

'bygone'.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnzHOsiaJns

There's nothing.

I've been writing for days

about you

about us

about everything I struggled

to say

hoping my words will

move you

because I've heard that

words can melt rocks and hills

but after all these days

I realize

there's nothing that can truly

make you listen

to me,

really,

there's nothing

and now, I am out of

words too,

really,

I've nothing left to

say.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejG2NwA5Crg

FIREFLIES.

Our love bathed and drowned

in the metaphors of

fireflies,

it shone in the dark even with

a lifespan so

small.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoLlgAnXkXw

Time.

Time ebbs and flows in strange ways

with you around,

it rushes,

it quietens,

it pushes and hushes,

tugs and shushes,

time ebbs and flows in strange ways,

and with you around,

it hastens and flashes,

like a stream drifting without a

course.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsChJvE86M

Your absence.

Your absence was heavier than

your presence,

it bent me out of shape,

leaving me with an unsettling

emotion,

like how the remnants of previous

night's storm

bring down the leaves and the

flowers.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdIVP0ZjBv4

My book ‘Warm Delinquencies’ is out.

Hi, everyone,

My book 'Warm Delinquencies' is out on Amazon for worldwide shipping. This is my debut poetry and writing collection that deals with the matters of the heart.

To buy the book: http://bit.ly/2gnn6j9

The paperbacks (along with the Kindle versions) are available in the USA, India, Germany, Italy, France, Spain, United Kingdom, Japan. The Kindle version of the book is available in Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Netherlands, and Australia.

If you enjoy reading what I write, please order the book on Amazon and shower me with some love.

It would be great if you can leave me a review on Amazon, and on Goodreads at http://bit.ly/2yBdP1u

Thank you for your love and support.

The Park Bench.

There is a blue bench in a park nearby,

it is old, slightly broken, and I wonder

how many grueling seasons it withstood,

and still is,

it makes funny faces at me,

no, it’s not a figment of my imagination,

it’s real,

as real as you and me,

its ends are chipped,

kids leave paint blotches on it,

and it’s really beaten out of shape,

despite all the mess it is,

plants grow on each of its legs,

flowers of colours yellow and purple bloom

over it,

it’s real,

as real as you and me,

but do you think we can bloom amidst

all the muddle we’ve created?

do you think we can withstand the tough seasons as well?

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6yjJ-2L15rg

Spring.

When you're desolate, angry, and alone

take my hand and put it on your heart,

tall promises of fixing you aren't my forte,

but I will hear your heartbeat,

make you feel alive,

because that's the greatest luxury we can own sometimes.

When you're gleeful, cheerful, and basking in glory,

try, maybe try and look into my eyes across the room,

I don't want you to fill the space between us with words,

I'm happy sharing the silence of everything that's unsaid

even if I say otherwise.

When you're distant and you have no clue of what's happening around you,

look into the sunset,

cry if you must,

and know that you're loved and this world is barely beautiful without you.

When you're burning with desire,

but your feet refuse to go everywhere your heart leads you to,

remember, just remember that sometimes the Spring has to bloom somewhere else too.

Tune for the day:

https://www.saavn.com/s/song/hindi/Jab-Harry-Met-Sejal/Yaadon-Mein/CkUAUAJ9Rlo

The Poetry Club.

I have to tell you this.

My colony is filled with cats that are pretty frisky. They play, run along the trees and bikes, hide under the cars and broken brick walls making faces at each other, or simply occupy a cozy corner in our balconies for a pleasant afternoon siesta. But there is one kitten -- almost white in colour with two brown spots on it, that is perpetually isolated. It plays on its own, and often pushes itself to seek company of not just its fellow cats but humans too. It leaves after a while though, you’ll never find it spending more than a scheduled amount of time with anyone. Much to my chagrin, it barges into our kitchen to drink the milk I set aside for making coffee.

Funnily, it reminded me of my poetry club at school where I was like the solitary kitten writing poems on the most mundane things right from civics to squirrels. Mostly, on squirrels because they were my favourite subject. No one would visit my club though. With cool things like science club (Of course, it is quite cool) displaying models of solar system and fancy rockets, which child would pay attention to literature? And that too to a club which had just one member.

I wasn’t the one to give up though. I really wanted the kids to appreciate the beauty of poetry and look at the world with an entirely different perspective -- I wanted them to understand the beauty of stars, and love the sight of a pond full of ducks without getting into the details of science behind stars. I was a romantic and I desperately wanted them to experience the profundity of my mighty squirrel talking about its woes to the ruler of the kingdom. To lure more kids into the club, I decided to create and draw attractive posters and sketches with my poems carefully scribbled on them with crayons and sketch pens I adored. I put them in the classroom, and requested a few of my friends who I traveled along with to put a two of them in their classes too. Needless to mention, they were always dominated with the posters of Parts of Speech, and Global Warming. I remember my science teacher telling me how these things matter, and that I was simply wasting my time on literature. Nothing would come out of it, she claimed. I remember how much I hated her when she would urge children not to read stories like Nancy Drew or Malory Towers in the library, instead forced us all to read Britannica encyclopedias only. She probably never understood a right balance had to be created between literature and science. For the longest time, I was distracted in her class owing to her haughty nature of brushing aside everything that wasn’t science.

Before I digress, let me tell you more.

I joined way too many clubs to talk about mine. I joined the Karate club too, and ended up resenting myself. I quit them all mid-way, mostly because no one really cared about poetry as much as I did. Sniff.

Irrespective of all this, my club did manage to get featured in the annual exhibition where I displayed a few of my poems, including a series on the mighty squirrel with a pride.

Sooner or later, I came to terms with the fact that you cannot force poetry on someone. You cannot make people fall head over heels for it. Poetry too is just like love. When people get a dose of it, it would be the most enriching feeling that will last for ages.

P.S. Don’t ask me about the little kitten in my colony though.

Your Splendour And Uncertainties!

I've written you notes and letters,

On things that mattered, and things that did not.

I've scribbled on the pages of my journal,

With stories about you and your idiosyncrasies.

I was surprised to see how I fell in love with you.

Because I fell in love with you while running from silence to chaos,

Because I fell in love with you between your quirks and my mood swings,

Because I fell in love with you even when you were miles away from me.

But it did not matter at all.

Because I fell in love with your smile in the darkness,

Because I fell in love with you by looking at the contours of your face,

Because I fell in love with you between stealing glances at you and my phone,

But none of it really mattered.

Because I fell in love with you even when words ceased to matter,

And even when you were sipping your coffee or singing to yourself,

I fell in love with you even when you were doing just nothing.

I thought I knew it all. I thought nothing mattered at all.

Oblivious to the effect you had on me, I let you go.

But when you filled me with an intoxication and left scars at places I never knew existed,

I completely knew I was willing to drown myself in all your splendour and uncertainties.