Writing this piece was a trouble,
says the story of a lovely couple.
A dinky apartment of 2 BHK.
Each day as lively as a flower in a freshly made bouquet.
First light was marked with peck.
Followed with looking for specs on the head.
Before the office came a hug,
that was addictive as a drug.
Their love moved the machine,
and so was their routine.
Today was no different,
For the going to be parent.
The peck, the spec, the hug and lunch.
All love showered in a bunch.
An extra kiss for the bump.
Promised to be back before the moon came up.
Had to return early,
to take her to the hospital securely.
The staff started to prepare.
Sat reciting a prayer.
That happiness was no lie,
when heard his baby girl cry.
Their eyes were full,
when saw their daughter beautiful.

Is it wrong to be happy when in pain?
No efforts ‘to be’ go in vain.
When you know what the mighty holds for you,
it is the best thing to do.
It’s just that the pain feels so real.
Misery is in the open air site,
and happiness is like all the treasure locked inside.
All the words hurt more than a bite.
What weighs upon when I smile, is not delight.

Buddies since birth.
Supposed to be the star of the north.
My playmate, my entertainer, my protector.
Like a human lie detector.
The same one face.
The other hard to trace.
Your evil on the rise.
Visible through your nasty eyes.
Your hands all over me.
Push and pull me in like a sea.
Cutting deep into my soul.
Gave me another set of secrets to hold.
All that you should have been was an illusion.
I regret calling you my cousin.

In this house so big,
where mammoth appears miniature as a twig,
is occupied by my family lil wacky,
and the members lil shabby.

Fancy dress is a quotidian.
And try to talk in lydian.

I love being with them.
Treat me as a rare gem.

We spend time ample.
But they leave me alone in a temple.

Few times their pretend cuts look real,
like denying to heal.

Forever with me.
But a visiter and no guarantee.

People are weirdly overwhelmed by sentiments,
and ask me how am i doing since the car accident.

Sometimes I wonder what life is!
Is it like my mom’s kiss?
Gonna embrace?
Or is it success that I have to chase?
I know the world’s horrible.
Always make you feel invisible.
But what is life like?
A wild cat’s strike?
Or gonna be a child’s dreamlike?


When asked the experienced one,
said it can be chilly as winter and  warm as under the sun.
Life is like a movie with all the drama,
with your sidekick as karma.
strike your best pose,
so that the story pays when one goes!

The roses have wilted.
The violets are dead.
A ghostly message still unpredicted.
Talking to the one with a hole in the head

In my dream bubble,
all the glee is filterable.
No words said.
The blues with the reds,
on a wide spread.
As the clock strikes my happy hour,
there is a prey of my power.
I stand strong over the killed,
with a thirst unfulfilled.
When I said glee could be sieved,
it was misery I picked.