I hate love poems
because it feels like a fraud to me
I see people writing about love
then next day the same person writing about heartbreak
So what is real and what is not
And if both are real then;
Is love such an easy thing
that one may feel (again and again)
and other may fake (again and again)?

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I feel like writing
But nothing proceeds
I am writing something
so inspiration meets
the words I aspire
to write my desire.

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I like to seek my writings.
And see those words filled with hope and aspirations for life,
Those clumsy yet so perfect in its sense.
Feel the proud and calmest moments I felt when I had taken my heart's tears happy or sad into words.

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I am broken inside
by the truth of life
that I am alive
with no hope to reside
when my dreams collide.

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I feel lost in the world of my imagination,
making a utopia of my own,
where someone listens to my stories
and I listen theirs,
where everyone has an identity
but everybody identify as one.

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"Today's weather"

The days have begun
when the sky is clouded
when it's not certain if it will pour or not
when the clothes drying up is terrace is under threat
when my mother's pickles needs more sun but the weather neglects
when the wind brings hope for rain
but the heat due to humidity makes
my mood go in drain.

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जब रोशनी अंधेरे को ले जाती है
जब आसमान लाल पीले रंग की होली खेलती है
जब चिड़ियों की आवाज़ से गूंज उठता है
जब हम एक नए दिन की शुरुआत के लिए तयार होते है ।

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Sometimes the melancholy fills your heart for no reason
The loneliness fills your mind although being surrounded by people
The feeling of failure grows inside
You know it is illusion of your mind
Still there is nothing much you could do besides.

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I closed my eyes
And raised my head
The light came through
The Warmth I felt
No sun no sky but glee
Red is what I see


— % &

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The year 2021 ends today
just like a shooting star
just like blowing the cold wind
just like melting soft snow
The 31st December feels like any other day
But 2022 surely will feel new.

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