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Lalit Kumar Mar 30
Your fingers begin where words are lost,
tracing slow fire along my skin,
like a whisper, like a promise,
like a prayer only my body understands.

The night hums between us, heavy, electric,
breath tangled with breath,
heat curling at the edges of restraint,
a war we no longer wish to fight.

You taste me like sin, like surrender,
lips parting against mine,
pulling me deeper into the gravity of you,
where the world ceases,
where nothing else matters.

Your hands speak in languages older than time,
lifting, pressing, claiming,
drawing sighs from the depths of me
that only you have ever known.

And thenā€”
bodies collide, slow and aching,
hips meeting in a rhythm carved into the universe,
moans swallowed by open mouths,
by shuddering breath, by the urgency of need.

You bury yourself where I am soft,
where I am fire, where I am yours.
And I let you in, deeper, deeper,
until I no longer know where I end and you begin.

And when we fallā€”together, undoneā€”
it is not an ending, but a beginning,
a creation, a devotion, a worship,
where love is made, and souls are bound.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
The match trembles between my fingers,
a silent war in a room too still.
Smoke or breathā€”what matters now?
The weight of nothingness, the weight of her.

She lingers like an unfinished line,
half a whisper, half a wound.
A memory blurred at the edges,
but sharp enough to cut through the dark.

Did she ever love me, or just the idea?
A boy with dreams too heavy to hold,
an engineer of castles in air,
a builder of futures that never came.

Outside, the night hums with indifference.
Inside, I weigh the lighterā€™s click
against the echo of her voiceā€”
soft, pleading, unbearably distant.

I could fade with the smoke,
or chase the sun she once pointed to.
Between life and her,
I choose to breathe.
Lalit Kumar Mar 27
Hey, younger me,
wipe those tearsā€”yes, I see them.
You think love will last just because it feels endless,
but listen, not everything meant forever stays.
And thatā€™s okay.
Not all wilted petals mean the flower was unworthy,
some were just never meant to be held too tight.

And you, future me,
are you smiling? Have you learned to breathe?
Tell me, did we finally stop carrying the weight of every goodbye?
Did we find softness in the mirror,
or are we still chasing ghosts of what couldā€™ve been?
I hope we learned to love without fear,
to rest without guilt,
to speak without swallowing the words.

And me, standing here,
torn between the aching past and the uncertain tomorrowā€”
What do I do with all this?
With the lessons, the heartbreak, the hope?
I guess I keep walking,
one step for the child who dreamed,
one for the future waiting ahead,
and one, just one,
for the me that exists right now.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
Love whispers softly in the silent night,
Across the stars, where dreams take flight.
Vivid as the sunrise, bright and clear,
Everlasting, a feeling so sincere.

Your touch is the warmth in a cold, dark world,
Only you can make my heart unfurl.
Under the moon, our souls collide,
Reaching for a love we canā€™t hide.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
She stands in a glow of soft, silent light,
wrapped in whispers of ivory white.
A fleeting momentā€”pure, divine,
as time itself forgets to chime.

A stray strand dances against her cheek,
brushing her skin, gentle and meek.
With fingertips light as a featherā€™s sigh,
she tucks it backā€”oh, my heart replies.

The world dissolves, blurred and still,
lost in the warmth of a smile so real.
Grace in motion, effortless, free,
a vision that lingers, haunting me.

And oh, that whiteā€”soft as a dream,
a moonlit wish, a silent theme.
If only she knew, if only she guessed,
how beauty lived in that one small jest.
Lalit Kumar Mar 8
"Becoming more me"
a whisper rising from the depths,
where silence births creationā€™s glow,
where poetry finds breath.

"Words out of nowhere flow in me",
you paint the night with untamed thought,
a soul that lingers, sleepless, bright,
where dawn and ink are caught.

"Still upward in this journey I be",
climbing where the fog is deep,
where sorrow walks but faith remains,
where echoes softly weep.

"Love drifts, lost inside some emotion",
embers flicker, then ignite,
falling into tear-streaked eyes,
turning darkness into light.

"Bringing out more of me",
your voice is both the storm and sky,
your poetry a lanternā€™s glow
when heavy shadows lie.

Weeping Willow, your words move like rivers,
unfolding between stillness and storm.
Each verse a pulse, each thought a breath,
a melody where the soul is reborn.
If you find these words, may they be a mirror,
reflecting the beauty you bring to the world.
Lalit Kumar Mar 30
Sometimes, flipping through old verses
Feels like opening a dusty windowā€”
A gust of forgotten air
Rushing into my lungs.

A lost thought lingers in my throat,
Like a sneeze that never comes.
The past, like a cold,
Stays with me for days.

I once thought time was a magician,
Pulling endless moments from a hat.
Now I seeā€”
Itā€™s just a tired juggler,
Tossing the same tricks,
As we pretend to be surprised.

Some poems are wrapped in silence,
Pressed between pages like dried leaves.
They were never meant to be seenā€”
She feared someone would recognize her in them.
But I wonder, if I set them free,
Would she recognize herself now?

I cough,
As old words scratch against my breath.

Old poems carry the scent
Of blankets left out in the sunā€”
Memories aired out,
Dreams wiped clean.

Yet, some stains remain.
Some echoes refuse to fade.

And just before the past settles,
A sneeze always lingersā€”
An allergy to old verses.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
The morning spills through the cracked window,
soft gold brushing against tired skin.
Eyes blink openā€”not heavy, not lost,
but lighter, as if the night
left with the smoke of yesterday.

No rush, no dreadā€”just breath.
A stretch, a pause, the quiet hum
of a world still turning,
and for the first time in a while,
he wants to turn with it.

The phone buzzes. A name on the screenā€”
Dad.

He hesitates, then answers.
A familiar voice, steady, warm.
"Son, I just wanted to say... I believe in you."

A lump in his throat,
not of sadness, but something softerā€”
a thread pulling him back home,
back to himself.

He stands, looks in the mirror.
Not a lost boy, not a failureā€”
just a man, still walking, still trying.

The city hums as he steps out,
the weight of yesterday left behind.
A crisp shirt, a quiet smile,
the rhythm of feet moving forward.

A new day.
A new fight.
And this time,
he knows heā€™s not alone.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
She writes like the sky when it aches in the night,
soft words like raindrops, heavy with light.
Each verse a whisper, each line a sigh,
a thought unfinished, yet reaching the sky.

She mourns in echoes, in bruised, gentle hands,
finding beauty in loss she barely withstands.
A squirrel, a muse, a fleeting embrace,
love never diesā€”it just shifts its place.

She seeks the truth but walks through grey,
a heart once open, now kept at bay.
Yet, even in sorrow, she finds her hue,
a poet of storms, painting skies anew

She gave her light, soft and true,
but hands that took just let it bruise.
A heart once open, now worn and sore,
kindness bent, became the floor.

She sought truth, pure and bright,
only to face a blackened night.
ā€œWhy not believe?ā€ destiny said,
but how could she, when all turned grey instead?

She once found love in a garden untamed,
flowers whispered, the evening sun flamed.
A hand in hers, a wish unspoken,
but even love can leave hearts broken.

And oh, the tiny soul she raised,
fur so soft, wild yet brave.
A bite for a wrong, a love that stayed,
until fate, so cruel, took her away.

She cried for a squirrel, screamed for a muse,
words felt heavy, nothing to use.
A poet lost, yet still she writes,
in soft, aching lines on rainy nights.

She loved, she lost, she still remains,
a poet who bleeds in ink-stained veins
I saw you again, not in presence, but in light,
A flicker in the reel, a whisper in the night.
Your hands, adjusting your saree with grace,
Unaware, you burned your name on my gaze.

In a crowd of colors, you were the calm,
A breeze in winter, a hush in a psalm.
I laughed at my heart, stubborn and wild,
Still dreaming of you like a foolish child.

They say fate draws lines we cannot bend,
That some stories are not meant to transcend.
But Iā€”
I have danced with the idea of us in my mind,
In a parallel world where rules are kind.

You wore tradition like a crown that day,
And I, a silent poet, looked away.
But in dreams, I held your hand, so lightā€”
Not to keep, just to feel it once right.

They wonā€™t let me call you mine, I know,
Same roots, same echoes, thatā€™s how these go.
But hearts donā€™t know of caste or clan,
They bloom when they simply can.

So if you ever wonder, even in disguise,
Why a breeze feels familiar, or tears just riseā€”
Know this:
You were a chapter I couldnā€™t rewrite,
A light that warmed meā€¦ then slipped out of sight.
Lalit Kumar Mar 5
"In fog or flood, it has to look like news
and not wear down too soon."

And so, your words arrive, unshaken,
standing against time like typeface pressed into permanence.
They do not beg for attention,
yet we find ourselves held captiveā€”
reading, rereading, lost in the weight of their silence.

"First God
Then Everest
To the ends of elation."

There is an ascent in your lines,
a climb where breath turns thin
and meaning thickens into something celestial.
You write of heights that pull and eyes that burn,
where light is both burden and gift,
and even hesitation becomes poetry.

"Maternal midnight
Metallic lakeside
Freon heart, fayence mind."

You forge night from iron,
a heart that hums in artificial cold,
a mind glazed like ceramic, fragile yet infinite.
Even your landscapes breatheā€”
lakes reflecting the surreal,
hills like white elephants waiting for meaning.

"Mosquitos on her mouth
Drink the blood of encryption
Change the tone of her voice."

What is hidden, you unveil.
What is encrypted, you translate into ghosts and echoes.
In your poetry, voices are rewritten,
veins are maps,
words are particles dissolving into eternity.

You, Carlo, are the architect of thresholdsā€”
where dusk is not an ending but an exile,
where each poem is a place, a paradox, a pilgrimage.
Your lines do not just lingerā€”
they transform.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
He sits on the cold pavement,
back against the world,
eyes lost in a sky too vast,
too indifferent to a boy
who once dreamed of touching it.

The cigarette flickers between his fingers,
a quiet rebellion, a silent scream.
Smoke coils like memoriesā€”
of failures, of love lost,
of roads that led nowhere.

Maybe this is all there isā€”
a tired soul, an empty night,
a battle no one sees.

Then, a voiceā€”soft yet firm.
"Got a light?"

He looks up, startled.
A stranger, wrapped in the wind,
eyes carrying storms of their own.

"You look like a man
whoā€™s been running from himself,"
the stranger says, lighting his own cigarette.
"But the thing about runningā€”
it never gets you anywhere."

A pause. A knowing glance.
"Maybe itā€™s time you walked instead."

The words settle like embers in his chest.
For the first time in a long time,
he exhales without regret.

The cigarette burns,
but tonight, so does something elseā€”
a spark, a reason.

He stands up,
dusts off the weight of yesterday,
and starts walking forward
Lalit Kumar Mar 25
The time you gave was precious and bright,  
In little dreams, you lit a light.  

Books that lay covered in dust,  
Now opened again with newfound trust.  

Numbers started to dance and play,  
Hearts began to dream each day.  

A short journey, just a few days,  
Yet the lessons will forever stay.  

A small lamp you chose to ignite,  
Will shine in someoneā€™s future bright.
Lalit Kumar Feb 24
I wanted to write us down,
Not to change what was,
But to keep it somewhere safe,
Between the lines of my heart.

You asked me not to.
And I said I wouldnā€™t.
Because love, even in its silence,
Deserves to honor your wish.

But it stings, you know?
First, when my heart reached out,
And yours stayed still.
Now, when my words want to wander,
And I canā€™t let them go.

I wonderā€”
Do unwritten stories fade?
Or do they stay alive in shadows,
Quietly filling the spaces
Between everything I cannot say?

Iā€™ll hold it, though,
This chapter that never was.
Not on paper, not in ink,
But somewhere deeper,
Where only I can feel it.
I found you in fragments,
not in faceā€”but in feeling.
In verses you left on passing winds,
soft, sorrow-laced, and healing.

A selenophileā€™s sigh beneath moonlight,
your words, aching like autumnā€™s breathā€”
and I? Just a stranger
who mistook your sadness for depth.

I wrote not to be seen,
but to leave a trace in your night.
A quiet thought, a flickerā€”
never meant to become your spotlight.

But maybe I lingered too long,
near a silence not mine to keep.
Stepped into spaces meant for no one,
where your shadows learn to sleep.

And now I retreat, with hands in pockets,
like an evening walk gone stillā€”
where I should've just sat beside,
not stirred a soul against its will.

So take these words like rain on stone,
they'll vanish before they stain.
Maybe itā€™s guilt, maybe itā€™s overthinkingā€”
or maybe... just love without a name.

This is the last youā€™ll hear from me,
no echoes, no replyā€”
just a soft goodbye folded in poetry,
and a hope that you reach the sky
(poetry by a soul who felt too much, too soon)
I sit, the world around me a blur,
Masi talks, but Iā€™m lost in a stir.
Then, the callā€”unexpected, sharp and bright,
My heart leaps, racing into the night.

Why her, why now? My thoughts collide,
A hundred questions swirl, but none I can hide.
Should I pick up? Should I dare?
Her voice, her presence, itā€™s too much to bear.

The call dropsā€”disconnected, left to wonder,
My heartbeat thunders like distant thunder.
Then the text, a playful jest,
"Yes, Your Highness," my chest does protest.

She replies, ā€œI need to show you something,ā€
My pulse quickens, anticipation thumping.
A mystery, a pull, but I can't resist,
I pick up the phone, nervous, clenched fist.

She speaks, her voice like an old, sweet song,
And I hear laughter, where I belong.
But thereā€™s moreā€”Her friend by her side,
And their boyfriends, caught in the tide.

My heart skipsā€”Romantic rival stands, so near,
And I canā€™t look away, trapped in fear.
She tells him to shut up, her voice a command,
And I watch, helpless, as life slips from my hand.

She turns, showing her sareeā€™s glow,
A princess in pink, stealing my soul.
And I ask, ā€œAre you at Lawgate?ā€ with a smile,
She teases, ā€œMBA,ā€ for just a while.

ā€œIā€™ll come back too,ā€ I say, trying to play,
But inside I ache, like Iā€™ve gone astray.
Her image haunts me, her beauty remains,
A moment lost, wrapped in chains.

Her voice soft, ā€œLater,ā€ she says with a sigh,
And I stand there, watching her leave, asking why.
Sheā€™s with him now, and Iā€™m here, lost,
Her laughter echoes, my heart pays the cost.

We never were, yet we shared it all,
In the same PG, memories that call.
The quiet nights, the shared glances, the unsaid truth,
Now lost in time, like forgotten youth.

Her image stays, as vivid as then,
A beauty, a mystery, forever my friend.
Yet she walks with him, and I stand apart,
A stranger to her, with a broken heart.

Her smile, her saree, the memories remain,
But my heart races, lost in the pain.
Romantic, yes, but sadistic too,
For I loved her then, and still do.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
Closure isnā€™t a neatly tied bow,  
not a chapter that ends when we say so.  
It lingers in the spaces between,  
in echoes of words that were never seen.  

Itā€™s learning to live with the quiet refrain,  
with questions unanswered, with love left in vain.  
Not every thread will find its weave,  
not every heart gets time to grieve.  

Real closure is walking away unafraid,  
knowing some endings will never be made.  
Itā€™s making peace with the stories untold,  
with messy goodbyes and hands left cold.  

So hereā€™s to the silence, the pause, the regret,  
to things we move past but never forget.  
For maybe the truest closure we find,  
is knowing some doors stay open in mind.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
Aries
Bold, fearless, burning bright,
Your flame ignites the quiet night.
A spark of fire in the heavensā€™ song,
Leading the lost, where they belong.

Cancer
Cradled in the softest glow,
Your gentle tides, where emotions flow.
Moon-kissed and wrapped in dreams,
A protector of hearts, or so it seems.

Leo
Golden rays, a kingā€™s pride,
In your light, no shadow can hide.
Roaring fiercely, burning pure,
A love so fierce, so strong, so sure.

Virgo
Whispers in the starlit breeze,
Your perfect grace puts the heart at ease.
A quiet love, a tender care,
In the cosmic dance, youā€™re always there.

Libra
Balance in the celestial view,
You seek harmony, love so true.
Your scales weigh both joy and sorrow,
Finding peace in each tomorrow.

Scorpio
Deep, mysterious, the unknown,
In your gaze, the universe is shown.
A loverā€™s passion, a soulā€™s embrace,
You touch the stars with secret grace.

Sagittarius
Chasing horizons, wild and free,
Your spirit is a dream, untamed, you see.
The stars reflect your endless roam,
A love that never calls one place home.

Capricorn
Sturdy as the mountainā€™s base,
You stand strong, no need to chase.
A lover of depth, steady and wise,
Building love under starlit skies.

Aquarius
Revolution in your sight,
Your love is a spark that ignites the night.
A thinker, a dreamer, on the edge of new,
With the stars, you create whatā€™s true.

Pisces
Drifting in a sea of dreams,
Your love flows like gentle streams.
A loverā€™s touch, a soul so pure,
In the stars, your heart finds its cure.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
Time drips slow like falling rain,
upon a heart weighed down with pain.
A thousand thoughts fill up my mind,
but no place left for peace to find.

By the sea, the wind still calls,
whispering stories through hollow halls.
Beneath the moon, beneath the sky,
I watch the stars and wonder why.

My soul is torn, yet still I smile,
walking cold and lost for miles.
The sun once warm, now barely light,
shadows stretch into the night.

I hold my breath, I close my eyes,
feel the fire where silence lies.
A single dream, a fleeting touch,
a whispered hope, but never much.

My hands still shake, my lips still burn,
for memories that wonā€™t return.
The truth is heavy, life is loud,
the past is just a drifting cloud.

Yet in the dark, I still believe,
that something waits, beyond the grieve.
For even lost, we still remainā€”
a whisper carved into the rain.
Lalit Kumar Mar 6
You sculpt time with syllables bright,
turning old instants into light.

In monostich breaths, seeds are sown,
a thought takes root, a truth is known.

A poet who sees in shadowed lines,
the golden cracks where meaning shines.

Your words, like stars, in silence gleam,
pulling wisdom from the dream.

Gnōthi seautĆ³nā€”each phrase unfolds,
a mind that dares, a hand that holds.

Not just letters, nor rhymed disguise,
but breath that whispers, ā€œKnow, arise.ā€


"Step outside the fire circle,
be swallowed by the night,
step farther into the night,
be swallowed by the stars."

Not all are brave enough to wander,
to step beyond where embers flicker.
Yet you, a poet, walk in wonder,
with verses bright and steps that shimmer.

"Old instants made unforgettable"

You carve the past in fleeting light,
etching echoes on the air,
binding time in words so slight,
yet they remain, still standing there.

"The woe is not mine, I'm fine."

Not all who bleed wear open scars,
some heal through ink and quiet sighs.
A poetā€™s strength is held in stars,
in silent truths behind their eyes.

"Gnōthi SeautĆ³n (Ī“Ī½Ļ‰ĪøĪ¹ Ī£Ī±Ļ…Ļ„ĻŒĪ½)"
"Know thyselfā€”step beyond the fire."

Knowing oneself is a river untamed,
not a mirror, but an endless sea.
You write of depth no chains have claimed,
of thoughtā€™s wild winds, of minds set free.

"Seed time harvest eat think form"

Each thought a seed, each line a field,
harvested in minds unknown.
You plant in silence, yet they yield
gardens where lost souls have grown.

"The choice decides Earthā€™s destiny."

Do we seek love or seek control?
Do we embrace or fight the tide?
You weave these truths through poetā€™s scroll,
where questions walk, where doubts confide.
Ken, your poetry breathes in the in-betweenā€”where memory meets mystery, where thought becomes timeā€™s witness. Your words do not merely tell; they awaken, they challenge, they become.
Lalit Kumar Mar 25
I walked through the quiet hush of dusk,
where echoes of dreams in shadows lay.
Soft whispers clung to the evening breeze,
calling me back to yesterday.

A lantern flickered deep in my chest,
its flame unsure, yet burning bright.
Through shattered paths and weary steps,
it carved its way into the night.

I gathered moments, thread by thread,
stitched them into skybound wings.
Though time may steal, and fate may fade,
some dreams still humā€”some echoes sing.
Lalit Kumar Mar 1
In shadows of 2020, your words still linger,
Soft whispers that dance on time's gentle finger.
Like the mystical sky that weeps with grace,
Your verses drip softly, leaving no trace.

Your tears, they seeped through the lines we read,
Like radiance that persists, a light we need.
Where have the unraveled scars gone to hide,
Those marks of growth, where truths collide?

Your mysterious mists still haunt the air,
With empty promises and unspoken care.
Where is the dream that once flew so free,
Like jellyfish effloresce, drifting to be?

The curves of heaven, the grain of truthā€”
Your words once captured both youth and proof.
Now silence remains where the cursed night drifts,
Where your wobbled strokes once found their shifts.

Where are the glorious jams of your art?
What stilled your pen, what made it depart?
For in your absence, your poetry stays,
Like a mark left behind, lingering always.

We wait for your voice to rise once more,
To hear your spirits and the world you explore.
So tell me, dear poet, where have you been?
Will your ink ever rise, to dance again?
He traced my limits with dripping fate,
A careless god with a water-drawn gate.
I ran in circlesā€”dry shrinking fast,
Each lap a loop, a haunted past.

The lines closed in, the world grew tight,
No sky above, no edge in sight.
Till even breath became a crime,
And drowning felt like passing time.

But something wild refused to die,
Not strengthā€”just rage at a soaking lie.
I kicked the flood, broke rules of grace,
And carved my way through scattered space.

Now here I stand, soaked to skin,
On dry land, breathing inā€”
Like I was never trapped at all,
Like the flood was just a small downfall
A boy spills water on the ground.
He drags his finger through it, drawing a circle.
An ant gets trapped inside the wet boundary.
It keeps walking, confused, trying to find a way out.
The boy keeps shrinking the space, closing it more with each new water line.
The ant starts circling faster, its dry ground disappearing.
Soon thereā€™s nowhere left to standā€”just water.
It struggles, floats a bit, almost drowns.
Then suddenly, it fights back.
Pushes through the water, breaks the trap.
And somehowā€”it walks out.
Back on dry ground.
Like nothing happened.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
Whispers drift through midnight air,
Air so heavy with silent prayer.
Prayer that lingers on broken lips,
Lips trembling from love that slips.

Slips like sand through fragile hands,
Hands once strong, now lost in strands.
Strands of time weave fateā€™s cruel art,
Art of mending a shattered heart.

Heart beats slow in moonā€™s embrace,
Embrace the void, the empty space.
Space where echoes fade to none,
None remain, yet love is one.
Lalit Kumar Mar 25
The night hums a quiet tune,  
a melody lost between stars and sighs.  
Moonlight spills like silver ink,  
writing forgotten dreams on my skin.  

I chase echoes of a name I never spoke,  
woven in the hush of the wind.  
Footsteps dissolve in the sand,  
yet the tide carries them backā€”  
again, and again.  

Time bends where longing lingers,  
soft hands reaching for yesterdayā€™s touch.  
But love, like mist,  
fades before fingers can hold it.  

So I gather the whispers,  
press them into my ribs,  
let them bloom beneath my breathā€”  
a garden of moments,  
eternal and unseen.
Lalit Kumar Mar 26
Some rest in a loverā€™s trembling hands,
whispering vows too soft to last.
Some lie upon a quiet chest,
a farewell kiss from petals past.

Some twirl free in the morning breeze,
brushing the sky in fleeting flight.
Some are pressed between old pages,
holding echoes of moonlit nights.

Some are worn behind an ear,
a fragrant crown for fleeting youth.
Some are crushed beneath careless feet,
forgotten before they bloomed.

Some wilt alone, unseen, unsung,
fading into the earth once more.
Yet all have known a momentā€™s grace,
a touch, a tear, a love once pure.

For every petal tells a story,
each bloom a breath, a life, a chanceā€”
and whether scattered, held, or broken,
every flower still must dance.

ā€” šŸŒø
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
You
Are
A spark,
A wildfire,
Burning through my soul,
Your laughterā€”lightning in the dark.

Love
Grows
Like waves,
Silent tides,
Crashing without sound,
A rhythm only hearts can hear.
Lalit Kumar Mar 26
In the chatter of magpies, beneath the sky so blue,
Nishu's words dance, and the world feels new.
"In the afternoon, below a grey blue sky" ā€”
Her poetry, a song, as the moments fly.

"I hear the chatter of the magpies," she writes,
A symphony of joy, a vision in the lights.
We, too, find solace in those quiet calls,
Where nature whispers, and the soul enthralls.

Your ā€œCollectibles,ā€ a treasure chest deep and true,
Each line a memory, a fragment of you.
"Some may call it clutter, junk," they say,
But your words are moreā€”the treasures we display.

"Welcome Solitude," a gentle space,
Where poetry breathes, with its calm embrace.
Like your lines, Nishu, we, too, find peace,
In the rhythm of life, where the soulā€™s release.

"In every flower, there is a poem," you write,
And in your work, a garden blooming bright.
Your words, like petals, unfold with grace,
And in your verses, we find our place.

Nishu, your poetry is the light of the day,
A guide through the hours, a warm ray.
Thank you for your words, your art so fine,
For showing us beauty through your poetic line.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
I.
Dreams carved in stone,
shattered like glass,
echoes of effortā€”
lost in the past.

II.
Steps I climbed,
only to fall,
hands outstretched,
no one at all.

III.
Pages of plans,
drenched in doubt,
words unwritten,
time ran out.

IV.
Bridges I built,
burnt by fate,
stood at the edge,
a moment too late.

V.
Eyes that searched
for a flicker of light,
but shadows danced
through endless night.

VI.
Yet within the ruins,
a whisper remainsā€”
failure is written,
but so is change.
Lalit Kumar Feb 24
"Hey, what's up, kiddo?
You in the mirror?
I know life ***** sometimes. I mean, I see it in your eyes. You're struggling, battles you're facing mentally and physically.
So honestly, no one has told you, 'I'm proud of you.' No one has told you today, this week.
I'm so proud of you. I'm proud of you for not giving up. You have something, like, listen to me, you have something. The strength it takes for you to keep on going proves it. Proves you have something. It proves you are a warrior.
So do me a favor, listen. Do me a favor, take a hot shower, get some water, put on your favorite clothes, make the room dark, put on your favorite show, and try to relax, kiddo. It's gonna work out. I'm proud of you, and I love you."
Lalit Kumar Mar 2
"The heavenly stars are on fire,"
you wroteā€”so I traced their embers in your lines,
but whereā€™s the smoke?
Perhaps it lingers between syllables,
between a stick figure future and a melting past,
between the chaos you ransom
and the whispers you inflame.

"Some locks need two keys,"
you musedā€”so tell me, AnaĆÆs,
does poetry need two voices to unlock a moment?
Because your words unfasten thought,
weave mischief into meaning,
turn science into sentimentā€”
each stanza a blade, a bloom, a rebellion.

You run from hackneyed halls,
freewheeling with Johnny Cash,
eluding rulers and repressive liesā€”
and somehow, still, you pause
to drop a pizza emoji, a signature,
a hunger that ink alone wonā€™t satisfy.

So tell me, Yaleā€™s ink-stained philosopher,
do you write in crust and cheese too?
Does every stanza deserve a side of marinara?
Because if poetry is fuel,
then surely, you are proof
that pizza and prose
can both be divine addictions.
Lalit Kumar Mar 8
Rick, your words do not just linger,
they carve themselves in timeā€”
etched in truth, raw and bitter,
yet softened by a poetā€™s rhyme.

"I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie"

You write not just of deception,
but the weight of silence, the cost of peace,
where love is masked in quiet restraint,
and truth must wait for its release.

"but when the truth
arrives at that
final moment;
jaws will drop
plates will shatter
dogs will growl"

Oh, how your verses strike like thunder,
unafraid of the coming storm.
For in the wreckage of unspoken words,
your poetry dares to take its form.

"stepfather
all that pain
and belittlement
you served me
day and night"

Yet you stand unchained, unshaken,
forgiveness rising where anger fell.
Not just a poet, but a soul unbroken,
turning torment into a tale to tell.

"but now you
stand before me
weeping
with no teeth
and the big man
within me
has forgiven you."

What strength, what grace, what masteryā€”
not in vengeance, but release.
A heart that bleeds yet still forgives,
finding power in its peace.

Rick, your ink is fire, your words are steel,
unwavering, untamed, yet so real.
A poet who walks the edge of pain,
and turns it into art again.

May your lines be read, your truth be known,
for voices like yours must never go unsown.
Lalit Kumar Mar 3
In the soft glow of your sorrow,
where the sun fades, and shadows follow,
I see the tender ache in your verse,
each line a whisper, a silent curse.

ā€œSeems Endless,ā€ you write, and the moon listens,
reflecting the tears that your soul glistens.
In the nightā€™s embrace, you break, you bend,
hoping the darkness would never end.

In Missed Connection, your heart speaks loud,
a love lost, yet covered by a shroud.
ā€œI would trade my life for another day,ā€
for a smile that once chased your clouds away.

Guilt weighs heavy in your heartā€™s core,
a stain that no tears can restore.
But your words are rich, like wine aged deep,
capturing the pain that makes us weep.

In The Cost, you share the price of love,
how dreams shatter, pushed and shoved.
Yet in your heart, you still hope, still give,
for in your sorrow, we all learn to live.

You say itā€™s Too Late to turn back time,
yet in your regret, thereā€™s beauty sublime.
To let go of love, to feel that sting,
a silent price that time cannot bring.

Loveā€™s Altruism, you so plainly say,
is not in promises, but in the day-to-day.
To give with no return, to let love flow,
a lesson in grace that we all should know.

Jess, in every word you breathe,
thereā€™s a truth that we all believe.
Your pain is poetry, your sorrow a song,
in the melody of life where we all belong.
Through every line, you paint the skies,
a beautiful soul who dares to cry.
Your words, like whispers, will always stay,
an echo of love that wonā€™t fade away.
In every poem, in every plea,
Jess, you are the heart of poetry.
Lalit Kumar Mar 2
A tapestry of words I seek to weave,
In the echoes of each poet's breath I believe.
Each verse a spark, each line a flame,
In every soulā€™s poetry, a world to claim.

From inked hearts, where thoughts unfold,
I find my voice, both young and old.
In every whisper, a rhythm, a sound,
I shall write from their verses, where beauty is found.

Share your thoughts, let me hear your rhyme,
For in your words, Iā€™ll seek my time.
Comment, and in return, I will writeā€”
A verse from you, a reflection of light.

In the sea of voices, together weā€™ll float,
Each verse a ripple, each word a note.
So share your song, let our poems entwine,
For in every poetā€™s voice, I too shall shine.
Feel free to share and comment, and I will write for you. Your thoughts will inspire the next verse in the poem of us all.
Lalit Kumar Mar 26
She never asked him to stay.

Loving Loki was like chasing smokeā€”always slipping through her fingers just when she thought she had him. He would be there one night, draped over her couch with his usual smirk, spinning a dagger between his fingers. And by morning, heā€™d be gone, leaving only the ghost of his laughter behind.

It was a game between them. He would disappear. She would pretend not to care.

"Dramatic exits are your specialty, huh?" she teased once.

"Would you prefer I linger?" he had shot back, tilting his head.

She didnā€™t answer.

But then came the night he didnā€™t disappear. Not entirely.

That night, when she woke, groggy and reaching for water, she found something on her nightstand. A daggerā€”his dagger. The handle worn, the blade still warm from where heā€™d been holding it.

Loki never left things behind.

Her fingers ghosted over the metal. A message, a promise, unspoken.

And just like that, the rules of their game changed.

It became a habit.

When he was gone, the dagger would stay. When he was there, it would vanish from the nightstand and return to his belt. She never mentioned it. Neither did he. But every time she woke and saw it resting there, something in her chest softened.

Until one day, it didnā€™t return.

Days passed. Then weeks.

She told herself she didnā€™t care. That he had always been this way. But still, her fingers reached for the spot where it should have been. Empty.

And that was the night she finally broke the rule.

Standing at her window, looking at the stars, she whispered, ā€œJust one more trick, please.ā€

As if the universe had been waiting for those words, a flicker of green shimmered in the air behind her.

"Missed me, darling?"

She turned, but this time, she didnā€™t tease. Didnā€™t joke. Instead, she closed the space between them, pressed a hand to his chest, and whispered back,

"Donā€™t vanish again."

For once, he didnā€™t.
Lalit Kumar Mar 12
The Echo of Your Name
Your name lingers in the quiet air,
Like a whisper the wind forgot to carry.
I trace its letters in empty space,
A soundless echo, soft yet heavy.

When Our Eyes Met
A moment stretched beyond timeā€™s grasp,
Two souls colliding in silent speech.
No words were needed, yet my heart knew,
In your eyes, home was within reach.

Between the Lines
I wrote you into my poetry,
Hiding your name between the lines.
Each verse a secret confession,
Of love untold, yet deeply mine.

The Last Goodbye
Your hands slipped through mine like the tide,
A farewell written in shifting sand.
I held on to every memory,
Yet time refused to understand.

A Love That Never Was
Some stories end before they start,
Unfinished verses lost in air.
We were a song half-sung, half-known,
Yet still, I find your shadow there.

Moonlight Letters
I wrote you letters in moonlight,
Words woven in silver beams.
But night kept all my secrets safe,
And morning stole my dreams.

Love in Silence
Not every love needs spoken words,
Some bloom in the hush of night.
A glance, a touch, a fleeting sigh,
Enough to set the world alight.

The Distance Between Us
Miles could never dim the fire,
That once burned within our souls.
Yet love is not just light and warmth,
Itā€™s also the story time controls.

Waiting for You
Seasons changed, yet I remained,
A heart still tethered to the past.
Perhaps love is not just presence,
But in the echoes that forever last.

Unfinished Verses
You were a poem left unwritten,
A verse I never got to say.
Yet even in these broken lines,
You live in every word today.
Lalit Kumar Feb 24
In the quiet moments when the night is deep,
When sorrow lingers, and the tears may seep,
Remember, love , your mom's embrace,
In the gentle breeze, in the warm sunlight's trace.

She walks beside you in every step you take,
A guardian angel, for your sake,
In the echoes of laughter, the memories shared,
Her love lives on, forever cared.

Your dreams, she'd say, pursue with might,
In every challenge, find your light,
For in your journey, she takes part,
A silent cheer, a beating heart.

Though words may falter, and emotions swell,
Her love's a story only your heart can tell,
She'd want you to live, to soar, to fly,
With each passing moment, reaching for the sky.

So when the days feel heavy, and the road seems long,
Remember her words, like a comforting song,
In your heart, she resides, a love so true,
Guiding, watching, forever with you.

Your dreams, her wish, a legacy to start,
Carry them proudly, let them fill your heart,
For in pursuing them, you'll find a part,
Of the love she left, an eternal art.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
Evil is a name of a foeman, as I live.
Madam, in Eden, I'm Adam.
Was it a car or a cat I saw?
A man, a plan, a canal: Panama.

Never a foot too far, even.
No, sir, away! A papaya war is on.
Step on no pets.
A Toyota's a Toyota.
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
Two souls, strangers yet familiar, cross paths in a fleeting momentā€”an unplanned glance in a bustling city. The air hums with a silent melody, an unspoken promise carried in a whispering breeze.

They collide in the rhythm of a passing crowd, their first words exchanged over an old, torn book at a cafƩ. She loves stories, he loves the way she tells them. Laughing, they fill the space between them with warmth, letting their hearts confess before their minds catch up.

But love, like an inked page, does not always follow the lines we expect.
A fleeting glance, a moment unnamedā€¦ the start of something we could never claim.
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
They fallā€”not all at once, but in quiet, stolen moments. He writes her poetry in the night, she hums songs into his silence. Their love spills like golden light, stretching into endless nights, bending time, making them believe in forever.

She calls him kiddo, teasingly, as they walk under a sky filled with memories. He calls her his favorite, because she is the spark that sets his world ablaze. Together, they write their own symphony, unwritten yet deeply felt.

But all love stories have their storms.
Love spills like golden light, stretching into endless nights. In your laughter, I found my favorite song
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
Doubts creep in, whispered by shadows. Love, once warm, grows unsure, burdened by unspoken questions and fear. He tries to keep their story alive, but she is turning away, slowly, silently.

She tells him love should be free, like a bird in the sky. He listens, but cannot understand.

Then comes the momentā€”when she leaves, when he watches, unable to grieve properly, unable to let go.

A single sentence, unfinished, lingers in the air:
"Some stories arenā€™t meant to be told to the end."
Silences grew where words once flowed. Love, once warm, now lingers in hesitation. Was it ever ours to keep?
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
He walks alone, tracing the places where her footsteps once lingered. The city feels borderless, an empty world where her laughter once echoed. The silence is deafening, the nights long, the pain deep.

He finds himself writing her into his poetry, his art. But she is no longer there to read it.

Time passes, and yet, she staysā€”an unfinished note in his heart, a whisper in the wind.

Somewhere in another city, she feels it too. But love is cruel, and fate never promises a second chance.

They were never meant to lastā€”only to leave a mark on each otherā€™s soul, an ache in the rains of time.
She left, but her echoes stayed. Some stories donā€™t end; they just fade into the silence.
Lalit Kumar Feb 24
I promise to save YOU
I promise
To quiet your pointless suffering
To wash your pain away
To hear about your deafening loneliness
And Here I am waiting to hear a quiet footstep
Leading to my borderless isolation
Whispering a sweet song of liberty
Of a carefree life
A life inherently meaningless
So
I won't give you a broken promise
And a false hope  
Of sanity
For a life lived on a borrowed time
But yeah till I breath I promise to stay by your side As your friend,soulmate , may be more someday...
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
Oh, Mr. Poet, so lost in your haze,
Chasing the smoke of your endless malaise.
You sit in the dark, like some tortured sage,
Kicking pebbles while you're trapped in your cage.

With every cigarette, you seek to ignite,
The spark of hope that just won't take flight.
But, darling, don't you see the truth thatā€™s clear?
Youā€™re just a dreamer with a bottle of fear.

You talk of heroes, but whereā€™s your cape?
Youā€™re more likely to trip on the stairs of fate.
A good deed here, a spark of lightā€”
But, oops, itā€™s gone by the time you get it right.

Family calls, ā€œWe believe in you!ā€
Yet, youā€™re still in bed at half-past two.
Not saving the world, just saving the crumbs,
Wondering why the universe wonā€™t give you some.

So, go on, sit beneath that endless sky,
Kick those pebbles, maybe even try to fly.
But at the end of the day, the truthā€™s on displayā€”
Youā€™re just a poet with a lighter, stuck in the gray.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
A child spoke, and the world stood stillā€”
"I've lived before, I remember still."
"I buried my treasure, hidden from sight,"
"Beneath that tree, where sunlight shines bright."

Who whispered these tales to an innocent mind?
Who let the past so deeply unwind?
Are memories just echoes lost in time,
Or does the soul truly transcend lifeā€™s line?
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
I. Glass & Ghosts
Writing my name in a mirror of breath,
watching it vanish like I was never here.
Flesh remembers what time forgets,
but the winter smilesā€”
as if it knows something I donā€™t.

II. Streets & Scars
The city hums with untold stories,
where fathers are echoes
and lovers are lost in the fog.
Blind footsteps, heavy with fate,
scars rise like prayers in the wind.

III. Fire & Falling
Lungs filled with the weight of old wars,
teeth clenched against regretā€™s bite.
Stars donā€™t whisper,
they scream.
And some nights, I swear,
they burn just for me.

IV. Midnight & Memory
The river carries reflections of ghosts,
the moon is a silent witness.
Some things break quietly.
Some things burn forever.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
Your voice drips like golden honey,
Soft as a sunset melting into the sea.

I taste your laughterā€”wild berries and wine,
A melody swirling in the windā€™s embrace.

Your touch is moonlightā€”cool and silver,
A whispered song that glows in the dark.

We speak in colors unseen,
And love in echoes unheard.
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
Pages torn, but ink still stains,
Memories whisper through the pain.
She may be gone, but love remainsā€”
A quiet ache in gentle rains.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
I watched from afar, my heart heavy with guilt,  
The boy, standing cold, as her tears gently built.  
She stood before him, fragile and small,  
And whispered, "Iā€™m sorry," though it wasnā€™t her fall.  

Her eyes, still tender, though broken inside,  
Offered an apology she had no need to provide.  
She bowed her head, as if to confess,  
For the heartbreak he caused, in all of its mess.  

He stood unmoved, oblivious, blind,  
To the storm he had left, to the damage heā€™d signed.  
Yet there she was, with no fault to bear,  
Offering sorrow, as if life were fair.  

She spoke of mistakes, of things left unsaid,  
While the boy, in his silence, let the guilt spread.  
It wasnā€™t her faultā€”no, it never was,  
But there she stood, broken becauseā€”  

She thought the fault was hers to own,  
That somehow, sheā€™d left him alone.  
But I saw the truth, though they didnā€™tā€”  
He was the one who should have been repentant.  

Her apology was like a fragile plea,  
For love he had shattered, carelessly.  
Yet, she still bowed, still bore the weight,  
While he, untouched, sealed her fate.  

I stood as a witness, aching inside,  
For a girl who deserved so much more than to hide.  
Her apology was a gift undeserved,  
From a heart broken, yet still preserved.
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
A glance, a spark, a fleeting chance,
Two souls colliding in a passing dance.
Familiar yet unknown, strange yet warm,
A love unnamed, yet taking form.
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