Does Pen resurrect page?

my search for you is boundless, yet the only thing that
limits it is this madness.

when the universe that i carry in my heart will explode, under the rain of stars of love
close to my lips, your lips i will hold.

are we all born lovers? are you still a poet if your poems are just an echo of nothing but silence?
is there a name that only your eyes can utter?

i taste the flavour of satisfaction
not when i have written a poem, but when i have left one incomplete.

my heart is a minefield, where memories of you ceaselessly explode, i don’t know about the page and pen but your love resurrects me from the dead.

Continue reading “Does Pen resurrect page?”
Song: My other side
Artist: Taba Chake

Space for hope always exists inside us. We may not accept it but it sits under the seconds hand of our wrist watch. It is the base upon which time softly yet unknowingly rests.

At the precise moment when the night begins and then it starts turning from yellow or gradient of colours (hope) to blue( void). l watch the sunlight furiously shatter into the calm waters .
Did you again hold my unwritten letter against your chest and weep your heart out.
Did your tears attempt to erase everything that i couldn’t, that i wasn’t able to write.

writing poetry is an illusion of temporary victory
of conquering these escaping emotions and chaining them to words but then the softness of your face appears on the pages of my mind
and i realise how I lost again
the colours of our skies maybe different but every honey coloured sunset reminds me of your smiles
i don’t know if this is a gentle or a crude reminder
of our night we use to escape together by
hearing breathes more than words .
As I try to write your name, the black words dissolve into paper creases. I then desperately hope that the ink spreads in the shape of a miracle map that leads us back to each other.

return to me !
return the colour blue to my veins…

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it takes great courage to speak up. Yet at times it takes greater courage to remain silent.

silence does not mean a weakness or acquiescence, because everything cannot be translated into words. Life poses certain strange challenges to us the conflicts that are internal to us – their resolution cannot be outsourced. We have to find solutions and make choices, but with choice also comes responsibility for our reasons, for our decisions.

If someone has resorted to silence it does not implicitly mean lack of courage. take time to observe and understand. Perhaps, sometimes, in silence you may witness an incredible manifestation of someone’s strength.

In your mysterious ways

The journey to the love in your heart resembles an odyssey

to the dark side of the moon that exists yet remains invisible

i know you have exiled me from your heart

yet in your mysterious ways

have given me an asylum in your eyes our memories must come to you like refugees

and how you prevent the boats of love

from capsizing

in the oceans of longings that flood your vision

your stubborn refusal for picking war with reality

you seek peace in grief

you have taught me acceptance that love isn’t togetherness

it is a hope that becomes your strength

it gives you courage and grace

it is a belonging of souls and not the bodies

yet i travel every moment to you in hope that poetry may advance quicker than science to cover the distance that separates us..

Continue reading “In your mysterious ways”

Meet Me There.

if you cannot travel the world don’t worry, the best lessons in life are mostly learned at home.

there are the same number of words in the dictionaries of the world that can help me to either reveal or hide myself through these poems.

today i remain somewhere in between of being lost and found. come meet me there.

how often do you fool the mirror with your smile?

Jean-Paul Sartre said “existence before essence” overthrowing the traditional view of the supremacy of essence over existence. in my simplistic view i tried to merge the two. everything that exists is a manifestation of love and love is the essence of everything that exists. love is the only view of my world.

when I look into her eyes, i witness the birth of a star in the cradle of the night. Suno! you are a universe in the shape of love – my essence, my life.

if you are searching for a home perhaps you are knocking at the wrong door open your heart and welcome yourself in.

there is no temporary cure to madness, but there is a permanent one. write poetry. it doesn’t do away with insanity. rather it teaches you how to artistically embrace it as an extension of yourself.

Still , every night i fail to translate my paradise.

if love and hurt are the opposite ends of a rope hold the ends together and turn them into a circle. Where love begins hurt ends. where hurt begins love begins too. who said love has to end?

man is differentiated on his rational ability, but we often forget to align the vastness of our intellect with the infinity that lies in our hearts. intellectual capacity sets us aside. however love acts as a common denominator to remind us of our equality with everything in nature to maintain harmony in our existence.

Continue reading “Meet Me There.”


Somewhere a mother serves an extra plate of food, thinking what if her missing son found his way back home, hungry and tired.

Somewhere a mother gazes up at the night sky, wondering how we are searching for life elsewhere when we don’t even know where our dead are buried on earth.

Somewhere a mother looks at the sea and hums a prayer, her words float over the waves like petals hoping her children sail to safety in their refugee boat.

Somewhere a mother keeps the door unlocked every night, they took her son, what more can one be robbed off.

Somewhere a mother sings lullabies to an empty room each night, hoping her son will wake up from his unknown grave one day.

Everywhere a mother’s hope is kept alive because love doesn’t give up

I stand staring at Dal counting how many raindrops is it made of What will be the magnitude of the flood if the silent cries of our mothers started to fall as tears.

Dal Lake(2002)
Continue reading “Mouj(maa)”

This pandemic

(picture from pinterest)

this pandemic called love

how rather than finding a cure we honour it with poetry

this pandemic called love

how many hearts has it killed?

how many memories are its victims?

this pandemic called love

how we fear it and then fearlessly expose ourselves to it?

this pandemic called love

how it puts our entire past into quarantine?

this pandemic called love

how we let it infect our solitude and peace?

this pandemic called love is what makes you breathe hope on which your heartbeats often choke

this pandemic called love how art becomes its remedy and we sacrifice more of ourselves in dreams of forevers and infinities.

Continue reading “This pandemic”

Let just.

(picture from pinterest)

Softly I would like to begin to touch your smiles..
like the wind plays with the clouds and the clouds with the rain..

i like to paint the sky with the colour of your happiness..

with your hands in the pocket of our memories
i want to journey through every circumstances nd hold you on the other side of every sunset..

let just keep our hearts close
And watch Everyplace become our home..

Continue reading “Let just.”

I’ll continue..

“I have heard the knock on my heart’s door and find myself standing outside waiting to be let in.

you enter my life not alone but you bring back the parts of me that i have long forgotten and lost.

the light in your eyes has guided me through the darkness of my heart.

i have sustained an unquenchable thirst for the opium of your lips that are addictive and intoxicating.

i am in love with the way you place your hands in mine and together we bow in gratitude for the gifts of love that the universe has bestowed upon our hearts.

you ask me what will i do the day you break my heart and walk out of my life’s door.

my beloved, it doesn’t matter if you leave or stay.

with my mad heart i will continue to love you more with each passing day.

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