Image credit :Aaron Burden on Unsplash


My very bio reads that I am “all about alliterations.” I started writing poems when I was fourteen. It was hard in the beginning but just like Ryan Reynolds said in an interview, “ You can’t be good at something unless you’re willing to suck at it.”

I was very much inspired by Taylor Swift so I wrote consistently about everything in and around my life. Over time I did improve. The reason why I write is because I wanted to vent out my feelings without regretting and my diaries became my perfect listener. I wrote because I wanted to understand my thoughts. Putting down everything on paper simplified my complex mind. Sometimes reading a story or seeing a movie would trigger an idea in me and I would write.

Here, I am sharing some of my poems that I have written over the last five years.


The following poems are one or two-liners. They are clever and cheeky.

  • What is a Poem?
    “Poems are like heart’s way of thinking and mind’s way of feeling.”
  • Unpredictability
    “Tell me a soul who is too certain of time,
    that he knows exactly what is going to happen in his life.”
  • Unrestrained
    “ Your grips may be tightest in the world
    But I’m moving water, you can’t hold me back…”
  • Love is No Joke
    “When I realized the power of Love,
    I stopped making jokes on it.”
  • Bounce Back Brave
    “I found a new smile
    And I wear it like I’m brave.”
  • Curious Eyes
    “And then he looks into my eyes
    Not to prove his love
    But to find it in mine…”
  • Heart in its place
    “ found my heart in my head
    Thought for a second and
    Put it back in my chest.”
  • Closed Chapters
    “Never was a sweet phase of your life a sweet waste of your life.”
  • Subtle like Poetry
    “He is a riddle, I am a poetry
    You can solve him ,but not me!”
  • Writers Bleed In Ink
    “Ah, let the pages be blank…
    My pen should rest.”



Those were the days 

Image by Nandhu Kumar from Pixabay 

Those were the days when I used pace like a ghost,
When my worth used be of that of ashes, dust and smoke.
I went from being a shiny jewel to rusting iron,
I went from being sweet lullabies to screaming sirens.

Those were the days when I felt a void inside me,
An all consuming black hole sucking confidence out of me,
If I cry, I’m pretty pathetic
If I defend, I’m dramatic,
To be angry is to be offensive,
And losing my grip, I slip and sink in the quicksand.

Those were terrible days,
I can’t describe without exaggeration ,
Because that’s how poetry is,
Clarity is concealed under the garb of
Ornate literary devices.

Anyway, gone are those days,
I had to break down to grow up,
Bleed yet show up, get hurt to learn stuff.
I’m not going back into that abyss,
I used to be in hellish loneliness,
Now my solitude is bliss.

Strength and Scars

Image by Claudio_Scott from Pixabay 

Pondering over my weakness, I question my strength,
How strong am I for life and its distress?
It seems like every misfortune shows me how capable I am,
And every lesson is but a scar that is to be worn like an honour badge.

Eliminate Ego

Image by Anja from Pixabay 

Since the road is bended,
And broken past can’t been mended,
To begin anew , old ways have to be ended.

I spent here and there wandering and wondering,
Moving in circles, learning and losing,
What could I have done differently?

I arm myself with new knowledge,
I keep my ego at bay as ego is a cage,
Where nothing grows and nothing stays,
Nothing builds and nothing pays.

I have learned that you can step back without stepping aside,
Always reflect on; you can only grieve for a while,
For mourning too long is a waste time.

You can’t bounce unless you hit the surface,
Success seldom teaches,
If failures are stepping stones,
Fear is a frictional force,
You can’t climb up if you don’t keep your foot on it.

Rise Up

Image by Anja from Pixabay 

When you’re at the bottom,
Up is the only way to go,
Good is the only way to be,
Hope is the only way to see.
When you’re sinking beneath the waves,
You throw your arms in every direction,
Head above the water to keep our soul safe,
Swim around to find the shore in connection.
When you’re crushed and crumbled,
And mixed with dust and dirt,
They walked over you and worse
They say that this is what you deserve
Then rise up and do it like phoenix,
Construct after the catastrophe,
With a courage that is bolder than ever,
Chin up, walk straight, this is no redemption.
This is transformation,
This is the era of change,
For the love of God,
Love yourself the same.
Don’t pity that the bad happened to you,
Smile, that you’re still strong enough to continue.

Like Waters

Image by Antonika Chanel from Pixabay 

And I will flow like a river,
That never stays the same,
In my meandering mind,
Things are seldom straight.

But O’, who could hold me back
I slip out of the mightiest hands.
And when I’m overwhelming,
My waves are splashing,
To break the banks and cliffs
Sometimes water is strong and stiff.



Image by Stella Giordano from Pixabay 

Success comes with shade.
But don’t you worry, brave.
They may envy your attributes,
But it only builds your attitude.
Success comes with shade,
Love who loves you, rest may hate.


Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay 

Your heart is impervious to love but mine is porous to pain,
You mind is cold as ice but mine is hot burning in flames
Clean are my crystalline tears but your indifference is such a stain.

Waves of Anger

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay 

It’s okay to lose your temper on such days,
The sea is never calm always,
Let feelings sink like ships once sailed,
For sea is raging to engulf not to abate .
I’ll forgive you on such days,
I’ll be understanding,
Like the mariners who’ve,
Understood the capricious waves.


Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay 

Some moments are flavoured sweet,
They are to be savoured neat,
Now that the eyes had their treat,
they would tear up for another meet.

Metaphors and Memories

Image by Jackson David from Pixabay 

Flowing through the greens of time,
Blooming flowers of memories,
Which never withered, never died,
From being the mirage of my bliss,
The Nile to my dry Egypt,
And ink to my manuscripts.

You and I

Photo by Pixabay: pexels

You and I are the two pieces of same broken heart,
Withered petals of same flower,
Broken wings of same angel,
Ashes from the same fire,
Remnants of the same memories,
Characters of the same story.

Autumn Leaf

Image by 춘성 강 from Pixabay 

I am hanging like an autumn leaf,
I’ll fall down before you come to me.
I’m flickering like a little flame,
In in the wind to extinguish away….

I get this feeling about leaving,
Cause I already feel so left,
Here is no forgiving, no understanding
I already feel so bereft.


Image by Patou Ricard from Pixabay 

Your lies are whiter than mine ,
Your eyes are brownier than mine,
You blush is reddier than mine,
Your shadow is lighter than mine,
A smile much brighter than mine,
Your colours are vibrant but mine,
Are dull and lacking sense and shine,
So the picturesque moments of you and I,
Are like lofty hills and serene riverside,
Waterfalls of tears and gushes of windy smile,
And green carpet of grass and not slippery floor tiles,
It is our world and there is no border divide.

What is it?

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom: pexels

It is no love at first sight,
It is no rage that subdued overnight,
It is through sweet and sour times,
It is winning hearts after losing minds,
It is no being with you when you need,
It is no standing by you when you ,
It is eye to eye and head to head confrontation,
All the intolerable withholdings,
Exhausted in a more chaotic liberation,
It is no being harsh or tough at all times,
It is looking for love into love in lover’s eyes,
It is a mood inversion,
It is a good conversion,
It is through and through,
Still for you….

After you left

Photo by RODNAE Productions: pexels

Feel like the sun after the darkest night,
It’s like reaching the shore, escaping the most dangerous tides.
It’s like being alone after but not feeling lonely,
That’s how you got me feeling after you left me.

Or I left you or the fate withdrew its hand,
When you could see through the hourglass with no sand,
It’s like fine being not in love or being loved at all,
It’s like enjoying the fall season,
knowing you never going to fall.
It’s like pretending that I am free
After you left me.

It’s like holding my heart like a baby in arms,
Close to the chest, safe and warm,
Away from all the danger and harm,
That’s how you got me feeling,
After you had left me for too long.

Reason with

Photo by Igor Korzh: pexels

I try to reason with my feelings, till I leave them in a poetry,
Now, it’s getting harder day by day,
Half a decade gone in realizing what goes wrong,
I try to sing in a language unknown, a crying heart is it self a song.
My head doesn’t know that my art is dying,
My heart doesn’t know how long it had been lying,
All wired up in a messy mesh, and I am barely trying to stand still,
I’ll fall a hundred thousand times, I’ll break into countless pieces,
Again and again, never-ending chain,
Beauty breaks, speaks through pain,
I try to reason with my feelings,
They say ; “Try healing!”

My Brutus

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay 

One night you won’t be able to sleep,
Cause you’d haunted by the memories,
All you can think is what you didn’t speak,
And when the night be getting colder,
Brutus be regretting killing Ceaser.

That’s how I want you to feel,
The invisible wound that bleeds,
My revenge is nothing more than your guilt,
Raise a Shakespearean tempest, I will,
Just to see you regret the mess you left me with,
While I collected myself piece by piece.
Now, my ashes turned to flares of fiery gold,
Like the dead bird Phoenix rose,
But in my daydreams you see me as the nightmares,
You were the friend that turned into my nemesis,
You’ll be hurting the day I recover from these bruises.


Articles have conclusions but I am writing an epilogue. I have loved the notion that “Art it for Art’s Sake.” Many a times, I have seen people commenting and criticizing other people’s creations but I want to say that anyone who tries to put out something creative in this world is worthy of cheers. My work may not be a stand-out for some expert, but I hold my poems dearly because I love the idea that I could create something. Sometimes, when I read the poems I wrote in past, I get mixed feelings. Sometimes I am proud and sometimes I simply cringe. Nevertheless, I like them and as writing improves with more writing, I will improve.

.     .     .