may,
daunting you were.
close thine weary eyes,
and fall into the slumber
where i'll never be again.
3d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 3:29 AM UTC
one droplet alone cannot make rain
they call us harmless
commit injustices in plain sight
while folks call survival “life”.
one droplet alone cannot make rain
through their crimes they reign
and one by one
we flow into gutters and the sea.
one droplet alone cannot make rain
or maybe it can
seep into the ocean
evaporate to the sky
the corrupt palace shall drown
beneath the storm it brewed.
the song of angry men
is stuck in church pews
and unanswered prayers.
accountability was never
taken seriously.
you cannot pile money against flood
and drugs can't fly you high.
pray that you did not plunder
the budget for your flood defense
or you’ll be drowning with the sky.
6d ago
May 29, 2026 at 3:05 AM UTC
we walked on quiet streets of
asphalt, with weary eyes; above
all, you're probably doing better now.
melting ice cream, sticky as it is—
cold comfort; your warmth, bliss.
miss this more than my heart allows.
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:30 AM UTC
it was after school.
eating ice cream behind the
school premises with her.
and as the golden hour passed us,
we were also just fleeting memories
of that street.
7d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:27 AM UTC
we spent our countless
hours seeing the world, but alas!
do count the times we
saw others, in the world,
the world, in others,
or you'll be counting till morn'.
barely a quarter of our musings
was about the world
within us.
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 7:16 PM UTC
science says light is faster than sound,
but that is not the case when you’re gone.
i hear symphonies,
and the streetlights hum along with the wind,
but all i see is nothing.
i hear whispers, but can't see a thing,
is darkness something?
my coffee cools in every note that plays;
i sip, with grace, got lost in the aftertaste
while shadows form not from light
but from sounds
that i heard
when light was still faster than sound
you are the life i left behind,
but i still search everywhere,
even if you are nowhere to be found.
time steals whimsy,
time unwraps melancholy
like a slow sheet of music,
turning readers into bleeders,
pens weep in rhythm with the aching heart,
hopelessly, every time i open my eyes.
even here, in warped streets and humming lamplight,
everything is askew.
yet i stay,
because leaving would dissolve the music,
and i cannot let go of the echo of you.
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 8:28 AM UTC
dreary times of february,
airy foams of dairy,
frothy waves of the sea so solitary,
and then time goes a-march-ing,
to a fleeting tale, cautionary.
waffles, coffee, sky, and tea,
happy waters of the sea.
politicians need another escapee,
while they speak lies so charming,
and in their crimes they break free.
trying times, trying times,
common man trapped in paradigms,
of a hopeful life so sublime,
even in current times jarring,
while truth gets lost in silent chimes.
accountability—taken seriously?
seriously, sarcastically.
then i walk back to the sea,
whiff of air that invokes longing
for a country that fills you with glee,
while people sit under a big tree.
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 1:54 PM UTC
If I were destined to be cold,
I pray that warmth
would be as gentle
as hugging a snowman,
otherwise I would steam,
dissolve.
Yet in that dissolving,
I would rise with the clouds
and become rain.
Oh, if I were destined to be cold,
take from me the heat
that loves too deeply,
the tenderness that longs to be returned,
for in that same warmth
I would melt again.
But even in melting,
I would not be lost.
I would seep into the earth,
quiet and unseen,
and make flowers grow.
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 8:22 AM UTC
There might be more, but that’s the beauty of it.
It may get lost; everything is ephemeral,
but in that temporariness, you find beauty.
I wrote, read, shown, then forgotten —
not truly lost, but scattered across memory.
I once discarded poems so I wouldn't grow too attached.
And if I have lost those little poems,
It would not matter in terms of technicality,
Because when I breathed them into existence
Their purpose was to exclaim,
Then disappear.
If the paper that was written on had souls,
Mine would not haunt me,
But sing melodies of a former serenity
That I knew and loved,
And of the muse that I have lost.
Now I just look up at the dark sky
And pretend it is a book of never-ending dreams,
Each star a note, each crack a page,
Each vanished word a spark
That once breathed, lived, and left its mark.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 5:02 AM UTC
night sky, dreary night sky,
in you i found the shape of my mind.
and in your darkest moments i saw
the cracks forming as fine as veins of glass.
and through them, light—stubborn light—oh,
silky, soft, courageous light.
in the broken and the dark,
i witness what persists:
a light that never falters.
and in the afterglow,
i recognise myself—
dimly lit, in gentle milky way reveries,
and soft, dawning melodies.
and in the morning mist,
the moon, the stars, and i
sleep.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:55 PM UTC