What does the Diary Say?
I am your uncalled thoughts,
Your theory of unspoken why's and what's.
I am your pain; I am your heart,
A story of your mindful seed.
From your mourns to the moments — the ones upbeat,
Your rhythm, your pulse, your time, your verse.
I am a custodian of time.
I record your fiery and the incident-weary.
That's the reason you always say —
"I am your diary."
The "Dear Diary".

Things that I couldn't say...
Things that are still inside of me...
So many things to convey.
I will miss you till the end of May.
My thundering and raining nights
And my beaming summer days—
Misty spectacles—
Over my tear-dried eyes.
Deserted by my deceiving emotions.
Now, I don't remember my intent, my notion,
Displaying my dismay—
I will miss you till the end of May.
What's in May? You might wonder!
You will remember, if you push yourself a little.
If you ponder—
Last year, they were my most memorable days.
I will miss you till the end of May.
Fresh memories, wrapped in my joyful pain.
Yes, I am mad, and I am insane.
With whimsical heart, I was betrayed.
I will miss you till the end of May.

Astrological stars aligned for me and you
Should I write what I feel for you—
A long essay or a three-word phrase?
Believe me, it’s not a fling and it’s not a phase.

Let’s cut down this chase.
I know you’ve been hurt before,
But I won’t let you down for sure.
I want just you...
And only you for sure...

Can you feel the cool breeze amid this scorching summer?
I know what you're thinking—
'Another love poem, what a ******!'
I’m certainly off the imagery,
For my creative senses are bounded by thoughts of you.

Oh! Love this slavery,
Like a knight gets rewarded for his bravery.
I’m unable to end this unending rhyme for sure.
I want you,
And only you for sure...

"Will I have her or not?" I asked the universe.
It replied, "Well... that’s a tough spot."
I suddenly felt hot beneath this cot—
A cot woven with your dreams, your love.
There’s a reason the symbol of love is the white dove.
"What’s the point," it said, "if I make your love achievable?"
I shouted, "It’s making my life miserable!"
Tick-tock clock is running like a mystery,
Remembering your face from dusk till dawn—
Are my longings meant only to become a history?

Or should I expect something magical?
The universe tackled that question and said,
"I’m placing your stars—tactical."

Things that look ambiguous will clear the air
And bring you back in your full senses.
There’s no need to fret over your tenses.
Though I’m not taking any offenses—
See for yourself, and take your chances.

Bill and coo birds are singing songs—
A prayer for your love’s gleaming glances.

Now I know your perspective.
I am a true believer of you—
Maybe a useless one—an unknown adjective.
Within this life; in this new frame of time.
I learn something beyond my experience—
Yes, that is your rhyme.

A rhyme or I say a call of a contender.
That touches my thoughts with a rare comfort and tender.
Am I only feeling this?
Why I breathe fragrances of lavender?

Tougher verbiage of a different kind.
Holier than thou I felt, when I read your verses.
Your rhyme—

I forgot that I am a lyric seeker too!
Reading, speaking, and repeating your verses.
Creating melodies—
Tapping my fingers on this table
A different beat, a magical tune.
I cannot explain myself now to you.
In words a few.

For the moments that own me,
For the moments — away from my game zone.
I will stand against you;
Against this screeching moan.
I am done with your noises,
I am done being atoned.
I have a designated path.
I've now understood that I have to walk alone.
Many events have scarred my back—

Like a tree with withered shingles of age.
One can see the blame and the shame.
Without me to err, this world shuns my name.

I am resolute, I am resolve—
I am now up and above,
Away from this untuned world’s jingles,
Away from anything that twinkles.

Shimmers and the shine—
I don't owe them a penny or a dime.
I owe myself to the rhythm divine.
I am determined.
I will make my comeback,
Piercing the veil, breaking the shackles.

This world will celebrate me with booming crackers.
Yes — with booming crackers.

Once someone wise said,
"Your real dreams won't let you sleep."
And in my dreams I see you —
and then I can't sleep.

Does it mean? — are you for real?
Is my love really sacred?
Am I your Arthur?
Are you my Margret?
Or is it just a fancy fable of 5th grade?

Giggles, snuggles — a child's dream in a bubble.
And your frolic nag — a game of tic tac.
And me? I don't know how to react.

I told your name to my mother.
If you say, should I act further?

Why these heavy rains always take your side?
Whether I am drenched in rain or love.
Did you see that symbol?
Yes! The white dove.

Be my confidant, be my life.
Let's take this step forward —
not for the sake of us, but just be a part of something nice.

Let's surprise this world, by living this moment.
A rendition, a reprise.