Echos from the soul

​To some poetry is just jumbled words made to love beautiful. To some poetry is but a way to impress. And there are some to whom poetry is the very essence their everyday living hangs on.

Hats off to all those wonderful poets who have made our life colorful!

Here is a little something from your fan!
What madness is this thing,

Called poetry?

Where love becomes the sun and the moon

And the heart, the ocean blue

Where love becomes the seven seas,

The surfer quests to tame.

Spinning tales out of the crashing waves

Hoping for a footprint, in the sands of time
What absurdity is this thing,

Called poetry?

Delusional quotes carved

On the tombstone of the dead

Telling tales of lives

Of great men and of others

Of hope and hardships

Of lost lives in the struggle, called living.
What is this poetry? I asked.

The autumn leaves and its inner peace

The dancing rain and its untold joy

Take my breath away!

‘Poetry, my dear’, said the voice in my head.

‘ all things beautiful’.

Then again, everything is beautiful.

In its own unique way.
The above is a humble tribute from a person who has spends many a happy moments in the company of poetry.


Mon Amour

You gave me the most wonderful gift I can ever ask for. You gave me the confidence, to write and to write my heart out. Hence here I’m, writing my heart out for all my heart ever has, is you.

​The writer who dies

At the mention of your name,

Crumbling, like a sand castle

Washed away, marooned forever.

The writer who lives

In the shadows of your memories,

Fondness like the fire

Burning bright, from within.

The writer who writes

With the black of the night,

Constellations of you, and me,

In my fantasy skies.

For I’m the writer who bleeds

For bleed is all I can do

When I’m in love

With you.

The above piece of work is something way too close to my heart, so close that if I ever plagiarise in this, it means I dont even have a heart!

Life in the Memories of you

​There are people like me, people who dont worry about the future or the present. People like me who’s life still revolves around a certain past. A past so magical it has convinced them that there can be no better life than the life that they were part of, and left.

Living in the past aint a sin. Then again, nothing really is a sin. It all lies in the eyes of the beholder.

My voice is but a quiver

My thoughts, a starless night

My heart, the greatest coward

Unwilling to let you go,

Hovering over your memories.
My mind still loves you.

My eyes pry like always

In the voices of chaos

And in the faces, the masquerades,

To feel the magic that is you.
I look for you in the shadows

Shadows that was once people.

In the shattered lives

That speak of beautiful pasts.

‘Coz my love I loved a rose and its thorns.
I need you

For you’re all the people I know

The one true thing in my life.

I want my soul back

As my bleeding heart needs its fix.
Come back to me

Or take me with you,

My love.

My emptiness is unbearable

And my love is unquenchable.
Lets lie on the glistering sand

And gaze upon at the starry night.

Lets fly to the moon, and make it ours.

May our love consume us

And the world.

The above are words of my heart and it is as genuine as it could be.

Unbroken-Like a Green Leaf from a Dead Twig

​The beautiful words of Morgan Freeman in the movie ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ “Every man has his breaking point’echos through my heart.

Life’s a challenge. Not your job, not your programme, not even relationships or love can match life in it. Life gives you a million reason to give up and walk away each day. But what is that one reason that drives you, that one little inspiration that forces to hold on no matter the shit you go through in life? 

Tell me, why wont you give in yet?

I have my reason, hope you have yours’.

The rosiness left her cheeks

Her eyes a looming thunderstorm

And her scarred heart bled

For her love,

The light in her skies

Dying like the crimson sunset.

‘I shall live’

Said the staunch mind.

‘I shall love’

Said the undying spirit.

And it began

Once again

The process called life.

A wounded heart

A haunted mind

And a killing pain

As she trudged on

Unfazed by the hurtin’

Unwilling to let go 

‘Life is too precious’

Said the feeble yet determined heart.
The above has not been copied from anywhere else because, quite frankly, you cant do that here!


I floated, a fluffy white cloud,

I drifted, a million dollar yacht,

I swarm, a free spirited dolphin,

I rained, a deep dark thunderstorm,

I stomped, I own the world,

I laughed, I cried, I pained, I fumed,

I felt real,

I felt alive,

I felt myself,

With you,

And in the night I wish,

It never ends,

I wish it never ends.


This is my first attempt at writing poetry or whatever you may call it. I hope its any good. This is my own work and no part of it is plagiarized.





I’ve been going good for a while now. I’m writing a lot and I guess some people I know and a lot of people I don’t know are periodically reading my posts. So, yeah, that’s something I can be proud of. But once in a while, I come across certain works that make my heart go haywire. Like this book by John Green I was reading a couple of days go. It’s titled ‘Paper Towns’. It is, perhaps, one of the best books I’ve ever read. It’s got a very average storyline but the writing, oh my God the writing! It will knock the wind out of you.

It just did to me.

And so here I’m posting a post declaring that I’m so bad at posting posts. I thought I was improving and one day I’d stand where great authors stood but no, I’m perhaps not moving as fast as I’d want to. Maybe, I’m just stuck here. Maybe, I’m not good enough to be all that I want to be. Maybe, its just another dream I gonna have to leave unfulfilled.

Books like such make me wonder if I’m really up for it. I mean, anybody can write a book. That’s exactly what I’m doing. But, it takes a lot of hard work and flair to write a great book.  Hard work comes with time. It comes with passion and working towards it. But flair, it comes inborn. You cant just develop flair. Like Cristiano Ronaldo. Not everyone can be him. Others can be good but not nearly as good as him. Things like this make me believe in a destiny. If there really is a destiny, then one would achieve it. If there really is a destiny that I would become a writer someday, I’d. Else, I’ll keep living with whatever I have.

I’m never proud of anything I’ve written till date. To me, I was never good enough. That’s perhaps why I’m having second thoughts about my dreams. Maybe they are not my dreams after all. Maybe, I found writing just a way out from the suffering called life. Maybe I wont be all that I want to be. Maybe I would fail.

Maybe is such a powerful word indeed!

But I’ll keep writing as much as I can. ‘Maybe’ is not enough to put me down. I’ll keep writing and keep improving and someday and maybe, I’d be all that I ever wanted to be.

I thank you all who have been constantly following my posts, reading it and reviewing it and giving constructive feedbacks and expert comments. You make me strong.

A Passionate Affiar

It’s a love at first sight.

To be honest, I fell in love with you even before I saw you.

There you stood, with all your beauty that can enchant the stoniest of hearts. You can make happy, the unhappiest of souls. You can make a man go weak with just a glance.

With your beauty radiating to every corner, I yearned to touch you, to make you mine forever. For I’ve been dreaming of possessing someone like you all my life.

I’ve heard stories about you, stories of your wonder, stories of how you made every man fall before you like a pack of cards. The mightiest of men crave to have you. They’ve spent lifetimes trying to know you, to know the secrets you hold, to know the ingredients behind your endless elegance, your charm that melts hearts, to know how it would feel to own you, to hold you.

As I strode forward, I had my eyes stuck on you. All else felt like a smoke. The people, the worldly wonders that many ill guided men cherish but can never relish, the sun, the sea, the stars, life itself felt non-existent. 

I should have you. You’re mine. No one even has the right to even set their eyes upon you.  I rushed, my legs breaking into a run. And finally I grabbed you. I held you in my hands, with all the love I’ve ever had for you . The whole world looked at me with awe, some happy, some jealous but everyone with the same yearning to have you. I felt proud with you in my arms.

Sharp like the cold steel that kill lives and warm like the ocean waves that heal hearts, my hands ran all over you, feeling you up. I felt the seductive curves that lie beneath your false robes. I felt the smoothness that most women in the world can only dream of possessing. As I held you tightly in my arms, I breathed a deep long breath, taking in not just the oxygen so that I can live this moment but also the gentle fragrance oozing out of you. I got hypnotized by your scent which made me go mad.

I wanted to take you home. I wanted you to be my home.

An impatient me unlocked the door to my lifeless house and brought you in. There’s no time to waste. There’s no thinking what could happen the next minute. I need to have you and I did.
I had you. Hot and cold and sweet and spicy, all at once, I felt like never before. I felt the clock stop ticking when we lay together. I knew not daylight or the starry night lying there with you in my arms. I noticed not the fleeting life or the ageing days when you were with me.

I felt alive. I felt nothing else mattered. I felt transported to a magical land where no one can reach us. Its just you and me, alone. Every moment was a life in itself. I remember it so deep that at any time later, I may just close my eyes and go back to what it felt like when I had you. Every little expression, every little thought I had experienced frozen in my memories forever. You were gentle and light like the exquisite feathers of the peacock and I was fast and slow all at once. I wanted this to last an eternity but I wanted to know how I’d feel after this.

It felt like a lifetime but it was just a few hours. All good things have to end eventually. When it ended, I had no idea about the time of the day. I just laid there trying to imagine that it didn’t end. I closed my eyes and every single moment of you flashed back right into reality. You laid there by my side, all calm and peaceful.

You just showed me the world.

Then, I had an epiphany. It cant end. It just cant. I ran off to where I saw you for the first time, to find someone just like you, to bring back home and start it off all over again.

Its an addiction. Its an obsession. It’s endless.

It’s a routine.

I have a library full of you stacked in my study and I remember how I felt while reading, deciphering and exploring each and everyone of you.

Books are not just love. Books are not just life and by God, they are, by no means a hobby.

Books are lust. Books are an obsession.

They are an unquenchable thirst.

I have a lust for books.

Thank you for your time and I hope I’ve worded the feelings of every single book lover out there.