So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough

vividly he gazed at the ceiling
with his hands vermilion
willingly his vision blurred
as he entered Heaven’s pavilion …

A void that exists
in my heart
for the view of the mists
on the day they start
empty shackles that now evince
hitherto made verve depart
seldom I’ve seen
my heart pleading for such grotesque art…

I’ve been longing to write a piece
one that compares growth of a sapling
with man’s journey to find inner peace
vehemently I drag myself
assiduously I reach out for a page
to scribble on
I’ve been longing to write a piece
one that explains process of dusk to dawn
a symphony on which my life rests upon
I’ve been longing to write this piece
following this my wait of love will be released …

The crescent moon embodies peace
in the dark night, and
the triviality of the sky changes;
a kid who witnesses the light from the night exchanges; verve
with the crescent of the sky and his heart ...

i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

There was some peace in silence
I saw a boat in the lake
it was pushing away thoughts of despondence
bet my brain wasn't awake...