What does the Music Say?

Listen to me, for I have a message for you—
Maybe to lift you up,
Or maybe to overwhelm your nerves,
Or maybe just for fun.

Hey! Listen to me slow,
Don't jump the gun.
I will always be on your list,
Notes and beats all entwined.
Whether a fistfight, romance,
Or something divine,
I am just a bliss of a different kind.

What does the poetess say?

She recites about the world and its affairs,
Like a tragic yet lovely éclair.
She stood up with a voice to curtail the noise.
She spoke of the revelation of the unsaid and what lies wrapped,
To tell the world about its gaps.
To infuse the world with words of sense,
Whimsical treasures, and stories of might.
She stood upon a podium with a book and a pen,
Like a knight, declaring her might.
Like a knight, declaring her heart and its insight.

What does the rain say?

Calm sometimes stormy.
Let me introduce myself to my homies
I am an effect—scientifical
However, my soul is philosophical.
Evaporating heat out of heavy hearts.
Cooling the destination is my aim from the start.
Bugs and bunnies see me as a meeting sign
Making the greens lushy, Yes I do the refine.
Grey clouds hold me till the orders define.
Here I pour away.
Thank you, enjoy my time.

What does the time say?

Don't run to catch me
Walk with me! instead
Then only you will see
all that's beauty and all things ugly

What does the tree say?

I am whistling and rustling,
Harried by the wind’s hustling.
Even without moving I know this world’s folklore.
I am a weapon, I am a page.
I am the binder of this soil.
I am the protector of this stage.
Still humble, I am a home to many.
I served my duty by being a shade to a divine sage.

You still don’t understand my worth—
What to do?
Then there would be no earth.
I feel sorry for you.
Your creations, your stories,
Your verses, your dreams.
I will tell your glory still.
If you let me live…
If you let me live, that would be another story.

What does the trust say?

My rules are simple and threefold.
Take a deep breath, I will say the truth—
I won't be sneaky, I have nothing to hide.
There is nothing to hold.
Just ask me to go on to the mountain's peak and jump down.

Without a second thought, I'd leap.
Without scratching my crown.

You'd feel my adrenaline surge, that unyielding urge.
Even if I fail, I won't hold a grudge.

I will do it without any fear,
Without any utterance or a tear.

I have in you my tenacious faith.
I know, to us, defeat won't show his face.

With that belief in me, and belief in you,
My leap would be triumphant—
Just like the way, an ant killed an elephant—

It is not a reckless behaviour.
I know, you would be there to catch my fall, my saviour.

I was able to do it; not because of me
But because of you,
For I felt your soul's felicity — loud and clear.

Being within or Being without.
Pouring in the *** or pouring out.
What is a thought?
This question blows my mind.
It is an over and out.

Do facts speak louder than fiction?
Or is it something that we just require for diction?
Writing it in verse or saying things with a face.
Can you describe your thought to me?
Choose your medium now; just bring it out.

Was an action — was thought, or it was the remedy.
What was it? Romance or comedy?

Ache of my head or an apple of my eye?
Is scientific and mathematical.
Why, what, and how to define.
What is a thought?
Can you explain it to me?
Why is it painful? — a quest or experience.
Why every time it brings a change to me?

What is Chaos?

Having a baffling thought
Which leads mind to rot.
An argument with self
To get your best book out of the shelf.

A searing term-
Impatience, indecision, anxiousness are in their  prime.
Even in the situation-sublime
Oh! I feel that pain.
That chemical change in my brain

To come out of this dark den-
You need a strong willed wrench.
To forge nerves for strength.
Strength to endure.
Strength to fight.
Strength to reignite your light.

What is love?
It is not a mere word.
It is a mystery; not understood by any nerd.
Is it just a word, an emotion or just sensation?
I would say it is an impression of the world.
An irrelevant stance.
A silly dance on your chance.
It's like water — it flow, it stays.
It adapts to shapes, it shifts with phase.
Yet, stays the same.
Cool, calm and clear—
Like a thought of my poetic peer.
What is love?—
my long-standing fear.
Overdone is a sin;
Underdone is a grief.
Hanging in the middle of mischief.
I only know this much and that's all my brief.

What is pain?
To abstain or to retain.
A feeling to let out, or to restrain.
A fruit, or a nuisance — a disdain.
Nurturer of strength, or destroyer of sanity.
Driver, or the conductor of vanity.
The propeller of wounds and scars.
The beginning, or the end, of my emotional or my physical wrath.
What is pain?
A metaphysical being who lives in my reality;
who dwells in my dreams.

What is poetry without admirers?
If you read it, give it a silent applause.

What is poetry without a thought?
Yes! Mind's whirlwind — I gave it a shot.

What is poetry without love?
I string some lines to bind your heart.

What is poetry, if it is not a guide?
Without it, there is no divine ride.

What is poetry, if it is not truth?
Maybe it is a story of mystery and a fleeting muse.

What is poetry, if it is not about me and you?
Maybe it’s about stars, freedom — and some binding truce.

What to Write About?
Should it be about you?
Or should it be me thinking about you?
Should it be about my sleepless nights?
Should it be about longing that will never cease?
Should it be about you holding my hand,
Or about you punching my shoulder after taking an adorable stance?
What to write about?
So much to say, yet too few words to convey.

What to write about?
The shawl wrapped around your neck that fuels my jealousy.
I tried to search for you across the galaxy.
Without your graceful soul,
My heart stands ablaze.
What to write about?
I sat with a dumb face.

It feels like I loop same verse on a repeat-
Is it graceful?
Why do I feel this heat.
It's like an unknown revolt
Why am I resistant?
Just to write about you.
This pen-
I just can't hold.

Whenever I try to craft something new.
My Imagery becomes dull.
And I remember words a few.

And whenever I try to write you.
There, 'you will see
A poet is born -proclaimed'.
A poet of hope
A poet of rue.
Oh! There again!
My mind is askew
Lost its *****.

When the Devil holds you,
Manifestation turns to greed.
Darkness, you embrace like an anglerfish indeed.
bioluminescent lure for sure
Will trap you, tapping on your need.
Then the Magician card unfolds-
A saviour - God sent.
Immersing the skills of the field
Wielding a willing torch.
Devil's dark spell, you will watch on the river afloat, Dead corpses drift and float
A deadly mark stained on hand.
A hero's hand saving the worldly fleet.

I heard a whisper, "Why return?—Heart still guarded."
Our fingers interlocked,
Sitting on a couch,
Headphones on,
Listening to the sweetest song.

Ancient and antique—both spirits together,
Writing verses of beyond,
Getting thoughts cozier in this windy storm.

A book on the side table,
With my scribbled wishes,
Engraving my thoughts on those empty pages.
Imagining the above scene, I wrote:
"When will this image become my experience?"

Up from the dream, it's just me and the storm.
Turning off the lamp,
I let this yet-to-happen memory—a cloudy form.

Who is she?
She is one of a kind.
She dwells on earth, a figure- celestial.
Once you see her, memories keep up the rewind.

Who is she?
A question that I ask when she stands strong-
A warrior that this world has ever known.

Who is she?
She is the one who does creation-Unique.
Art finds its peak
A way so rare, A way - antique
Beauty admires its own revelation.

Who is she?
She is the one who writes in a way
That lyrics find their own rhyme.
Changing and challenging the rhythm divine.

Who is she?
She is a champion of all-
Yet humble and cheerful.
"Don't anger her" that will lead to your fall.

Who is she?
She is the one who questions herself
Asking"who is she?"
While listening to that same old song.

Who is she?
A soul thief, the one who made me feel as a whole.
For I was a scathed scar.
She embraced me like a tattoo from a famous stand.
A guy who was just a  burn on a hand

Who truly knows the signs of love?
A few rose, beyond the rest.
A road, difficult, designed to test.
Test of patience,
Test of trust,
Test of longing,
Test of real love,
Test of lust.

Some say it has divinity,
A whisper from the divine.

What is love? What are its signs?
Lovers are always on the go,
No time to meet and define.
Who knows love?
Poets define it as incomplete.
No one has written a verse
About love which was deemed complete—
To the death of time or to the death of this rhyme.

Why good things cant' keep going??
Why they have to stop?
Why the one you like the most goes away?
Why it never happens the way you want?

All these questions, I asked the silence to answer but the indifferent silence never broke a sound.

A moon in grief summons my soul to calm down.

Deep within, not so assured of,  my heart says after a pause.
Good things ends maybe there is more to learn.
To start something new, former must have end.
And hardest of all is to accept, sunshine of your day is not only yours to keep.
Rivers flows the directions, where mountains direct them to sweep.

Are these answers true only time will tell.
Still then I will wake in my sleep.

Why are they different?—the day and the night.
The day—flamboyant in nature, a giver.
A fearless creature with ecstasy in heart.
A button pressed—it will jumpstart.

The night—calming senses, healing wounds.
Cloudy touch—longings and love together, it will clutch.
They say it best, 'Silence is the sweetest sound.'

Being part of the same cycle.
Do hurricanes usually hide within serene hearts?

Together, they stay—Yin and Yang, the stoic way.
The street in which I stay witnesses this display.

Why do I feel like an empty vessel,
Like a soul caged in a dark, vast castle?
I shouted. I cried.
Yet the only sound I heard was my own voice.
Did I come here by my own choice?

For forgiveness, I plead,
Even for the path I did not lead.
Yes, I made choices—some were not right,
But does that make me guilty, the bearer of this outcry?
Or is it something else, yet to be finalized?

Is this a green room for gladiators,
Only to be vandalized?
What should I do with this vessel,
Once filled with passion and hustle?
Now, it is just an empty jar.
Should I break it—
And rise above the bar?

How strange but laughable,
I live happily in imagination,
But get saddened by reality.
A momentary giggle bursts the trouble,
Bubbly moments are all I now see,
Away from mortality.
Vanished are all my failed trials,
Just when I sit together with my imagination,
Leaving my conscience behind.
I and my wandering mind, overwhelmed with thought—
Oh! What happened to my mental graduation?

How foolish I sound copying a poet's voice.
Do leaves talk, and from when does silence start to noise?
How naive I behave when I see
A pebble,
A dried leaf,
A billboard,
On the go.
And then I start a fable,
Traveling on a rail car,
Away from practicality.
Why is there solace away from clarity?

I meet beings with twirled tails.
One with fox-like eyes,
Another wiggling his child-like tail.

Without a language—
They conversed with me heart to heart.
I met beings who were really smart.
Strangely, I understand everything,
While they only used the word 'bark'.

Happy and spiritual,
They are closer to God
Without performing any pompous rituals.

They hide themselves under the canopy of a greenish light.
They look different but don't judge—
Not measuring and fixing each other's right.

Unlike humans—the man of science,
Who spend years to create languages,
Still can't express their love or their pain.
How do they do it?
Gasping your temperament,
They read between the lines!

These four-legged, chirping beings,
Waggling their googly eyes.
Wearing an identity collar—
A free breed, indeed.
Joyous always,
Non-believers of caste and creed.

They live life carefree—with or without shelter.
I know it now,
Why people name their dog—Dr. Watson or Walter.

I have no fear in saying my heart's will.
But will honour whatever is there in your heart still.
The question you asked.
I tried to answer them upon your request.
To the best

Why do you say flowers have fragrance?

It's a scent of a memory that one feels reverie.
A mark of identity to your soul.
Or maybe just a gesture to attract you.
A touch by you enhance their beauty as whole.

Why do you say colors have hues?

Cause in life you need a purpose or a goal
Imagining I connect to you for your golden heart as a purest soul.


Why do you say sounds have melodies

Melodies are messages of the almighty's Rhythm divine.
Nourishing your peace, positivity.
Have a believe in his design.

Why do you say dreams have meanings?

My dreams  have meaning for they have - you in it.
I disbelief any misfit.

Maybe My heart is just a beautiful illusion!"
But What if it is true..
Only one way to revelation.

Did you ever feel like your heart is hollow?
Why does time always slip away—too short to follow?

A moment of meeting the one you desire,
Who always sets your soul on fire.
And then, something would always disrupt the flow,
Just missed watching that glow.

Which I manifested for long.
I can even weave my yearnings into a song.
Inability—to adore the holiness.
Can I have your ear? Will you sing along?

After facing the trolls from all around,
All I wanted was a sight—a glance.
To have that scene to play.
I can go leaps and bounds without any dismay.

Just to fill this heart with absolute glory.
Will I ever get a chance to complete my wistful story?

A candle to spread light
A kitty to cuddle waving off the trouble.
A frame with my favourite pet
Some room for a  scented flower ***.
Little small but a brighter space.
A drawer full of dreams
A diary full of manifestations
Adventures in your eyes.
A life to discover beyond reservations.
How wonderful it is
Indeed, there I stand amazed .
Like a excited lad, jumping up
I am what just a brat.
Would I say it amiable?
Will there a room for me at your table ?
Will there a room for us at the table ?

Switching on and off the night lamp.
The hanging light—doing up the calling dance.
Wrapped in my blanket, my thoughts took a stance.
Taking turns from one side to another.
Hallucinating an image of you
Warms up the weather.

Sleep is away, maybe gone for good.
I just see you all around.
Standing up and on the ground,
Am I blushing under the hood?

The revolving fan up the ceiling
Shares with me—the wind.
The wind of an awakening dream,
Like a video of a live stream.

Serene outwardly,
But I feel a raging storm inside—
Contemplating reasons—side to side.
Why did you draw yourself away?
Why do you always shut me down?
I have no insight in my crown.

Just over a thin-layered hope,
I still long for you.
Will we meet again?
My head frowns.

Withered flowers are what remain with me.
All profound fragrances are gone.
Only flashbacks remain with me—
Lovely, but dreadful,
Because they were the ones that kept me sane.

Normalcy—I try to act it,
But it feels like something insane is acting within me.
Flames that burned out the petals of the purple ones,
Ingrained images—the screams, the cries.

The body that once held me in its arms
Has just become dust,
And I couldn’t do anything about it.
I couldn’t do anything...

I longed within lines of poetry,
Like leaves and twigs long—
For the weather to be.
Singing songs of their beloved tree,
I found a festival, where kids were dancing on the roadside.
Syncing steps with the typical rhythm,
On a mundane day—bullseye.
I won't rhyme it longer.
For now, words aren't able to bear my feelings,
The ones which are growing stronger.
Captivating my mind a bit longer—
Music, dance, and throwing those colours up so high.
Giving happy hues back to the sky.
This affection taught me—
How poetry makes words—
Which never die.

I will smear the fate
To be with you.
No matter how much others give us that hate,
Even beyond the heavenly gate,
I will ask for you
On any stage.

That smiley face—
I am tired, but I love this chase.
Do you know?
I remember every phase,
Full and half—any.
What I don't feel, I don't like.
A no-moon night, please let me gaze.
I am lost in this word maze.

Let me ask directly—
Don't say that I am in haste.
Would you like to dance with me.
On a rainy day?
Let's get drenched all over again
Face to face.

Even if your answer would be no,
Yes, a different plan or person I will respect,
Like a gentle guy, you know.

Just grant my single wish:
May I have a shortsighted glance of your smiling face?
That would be bliss.
Believe me in this, there is no mischief.

I learned this lesson after losing someone close.
It's not about living with them through our lifetime,
But just about making a smaller mark in their lifeline.
The heart would be glad if you pass by just once.
Still, jokingly, I will ask:
Would you like to go with me on a brunch?

You are my reverie,
The unwithered voice of your heart
That calls me—your blooming love.
I am a longed spirit with apologies
For a reticent start.

You are the only one in the billion.
Don’t feel alone—
You are a north star,
A devotion of the affectionate moon.
I hope that I did tell you my words a little soon.

Even if this world perceives me as a clown,
Still, in your love, I am ready to drown.

Standing still with your shadow by my side,
I promise to keep my word.
Even if, by this world’s unruly stride,
I may come back and forth,
Like the tides returning to the seashore—
A conventional but uncontrollable sight.

I won’t fade away.
I, too, don’t want to be a memory.
I yearn to be with you
Till the seizure of my lifeline,
And till the end of time.


Till the seizure of my lifeline
And till the end of time

An awakening message on a board,
A beaming spotlight on a grave note.
Aggressive yet subtle,
A paper scream a yell of pain - unknown.

A woman writer crafts fiction like reality,
Unmasking the lowliness of human mentality.
She writes something valiant and sensible,
Challenging the culture of overdoing—the unreasonable.

To build homes for those who seek finest of the fine,
Is it rational to destroy nature’s design?
Can’t they see what happened to other lands—
Barren and dry!

For the essence of fresh air, can’t they hear people's cry?
Greed instills demise without bloodshed.
If you cut the green,
Apologies from the heart—
You are not painting your city red.
You are not painting your city red!!

Some roads are not chosen by us;
they are chosen by fate.
And the one leading to you
is destined for both — my heart and my fate.
After all, you, me, and my fate
are all one.

If you would allow me
I want to make this a reality.
Even though it is beyond practicality.

Perhaps, not new but some symbol of togetherness,
If it could be done in earnest.

To write our names in oneness over that fading sand-
On the beach, we once took our stand.
After all, you, me and our fate— are all one

I dreamt of you all my fancy nights
on my face - you keep shutting the door.
Immediately I rushed to the window peeping out
You lushy face, what a sight.
Finding you busy, I talked to your 2 am cloud.
It is not the time, he said,
Making an imaginary pout.
Revert back maybe tomorrow on the same line.
In aghast, I said, "fine."
You worried about rain on forest fire.
What about the storm, I am going through.
Thunderstruck by your desire.
I know your answer could be any back and forth.
But still, I will play this game.
Just listen to me once.
Let my heart say it’s due.
Then it's my neck,
Your claws,your roar.

A bird was gazing at me,
Perched on a tree
And asked me, Hey! Unusual species!
Why do you sit here?
Did you lose your purpose?
Jump back up and capture the sky.
Capture your sunrise,
Race like a star—this is your sign.
Capture your sunset
Stay prepared, stay on the mark.
You'll reach that cloudy arc—
I fly with wings.
But believe me, I know the sky.
Even without your wings,
Your dreams can fly.

They wrote your love poems
On the walls of Taj.
A monument,  once reigned by love raj.
A reverie of my own dream.
Did you notice that natural spotlight on our dancing queen?
The grooves, the moves.
Those twisted gestures.
For a bit longer, for this dream—
Longer I snooze.

This time the picture was not vague.
My eyes seized your face.
Impressed and perplexed—
My overwhelmed emotions stirred my reflex.
Unknowingly I moved my hand towards you
Interrupting the rhythm, the flow.
Just to touch you.

Like bees attract to flowers
You mesmerized my soul—
Do we dance like lovers do?
Would it be true?—
Was it not a dream?—
Was it just me and you?

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.