"Why do you not write about your joys,
And only about your sorrows?"


"When there are no words,
There is silence in my head,

There is peace."

that's why i am trying to adopt the good
and an endeavor should be treated with dedication

dear love i need you
fill my soul
you feel me...

*** in the morning
Death in the afternoon
And it was dark

Milling about stacks
Of paperbacks and out of focus snapshots
Some of her in the shower

But pay heed
She's an iceberg
Warm her up on a bed of nails

Until she's a plaintive waterfall
And then tie her to the scaffolding
Of a clean well lighted place

What remains out of sight
Through omission
Through silence

Through childlike syntax
Shall float to the surface
In its own due time

I’m a fool
My craziness is spilling
A page catching the words
Forever falling
Out of my head
Overjoy or overreact
Lean because I lack

Promise me you'll stay.
And I'll write about you all my life.
Not about your soulful eyes which led me astray.
Neither your hair with which I'd like to play.
Or that smile which hides and betray.
I won't write about that which decay.

I'll write about your madness which has no shelflife.
About your teasing of which I'm afraid.
About your victories in games and my strife.
About your mischievous mysteries a rife.

I'll write about the ghostly thoughts whom I can't evade.
About the prickly pain of a needle in my brain.
Without you my heart's raging a crusade.
In every chunk of me you parvade.

I'll write, you're the one from whom I can't abstain.
You're the ocean,  the very reason for rivers to flow and unit.
You're the land, clouds travel to be soaked and rain.
You're always here as if a legerdemain.


I'll write that by writing about you I've learnt to write.
I'll write so much that the reader will fall in love with your light.
Reading about you will be he's apatite.
Everytime he bows to worship at night
he'll pray to know if our story was complete and set right
So, Promise me because only about you I want to write.

A wise man once told, nothing.
I listened to his silence.

Then the same man told, "write what you feel."
I honored.

Writing has always brought me comfort, the way that sunlight brings warmth. Being in the alchemy of words writing started in order to get lost, and to be found again. Journey has never been a straight line, but what if one doesn't know where he/she is going, how can he/she be lost? Seeking peace through the ink, I walk the path that I am on, a journey through time embracing the balance to conquer hope, fear and dreams, even if sometimes it lead to nowhere. But still that nowhere has been my home.When nothing seems to make sense, writing emerge as a freedom to redefine self, reflecting what can't seem to resist, thus there is always some truth behind what have been written.

Into an abyss of innate emotions being mused by the nature, I tried to discover everything in a real essence of time. Truly I'm an observant dreamer craving for higher understanding but the spur of the fleeting thoughts mirror itself somehow in a written form. This trails may have a happy beginning, or a happy middle, or a happy ending even when there are no easy roads. We are unique in our expressive outlet, here I prefer simplicity to connect, with so little words to convey artwork message.

I welcome critique and suggestions, only if  you could read my mind, my apology. If you don’t really know me yet, you will, turning the pages till the last stanza, I am me, I am you, I am mere words, a admirer of beauty that is seen through the soul, in both humanity and in the  nature. If something inside invokes your senses, awaken your mind and spirit, I will be there and yet I may not.Travel with me across the examined life to experience a difference, somewhere away to the places of healing vibes, but the journey will be far from over.
Thank you for having me.

The Traveller

So another
For the writer
Another bottle
All by myself
To soak my soul
And drench any
Dream or hope
Of a happy life
I might have
Had left