•Love after breakup•

I see a poem standing outside my door.
I ask him what brought him here.
Did my broken pieces fall on him
and hurt him?
Or, was it my love soaked letters
still lying inside my
book, that formed the basal of our love.
I ask him, whether it is out of love
Or, curiosity to see me,
how am I smiling with the dark,
having loneliness by my side.

(Poem in caption)

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Of Amrita and Sahir

We are so much like Amrita and Sahir.
Spending hours with each other
without saying a word.
I finish the 15th cup of tea and you
smash the 15th half lit cigarette.
The room smells of ginger and smoke.
And the leftover tea leaves soak the
redness from the cigarette.
(Read in caption)

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Bated breaths,
Sebaceous sweat,
Tranquilizing tears,
Heated heart,
Yearning youth,
Rectitude resolutions,
And will to work hard.

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• On Time, Creativity, and Childhood •

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We divide people
in the name of God
breaking their bones
choking their throats
with a tool
that was made to
grow gardens
inside us.

-

My heart is a city
I build 364 walls around it
I stand in the red phone booth
Dialling the wrong numbers
Until you jump over the walls
We run on the flyover
At 1 a.m. in the night
Drunk on the whisky golden lights
Until the sun rips the night
And I go back to building walls.

-

Boys will be boys.
Cliché yet not so cliché
when it comes to reality.
It would have been so good, if
'Ladko ka kaam to yahi hain'
would refer to something positive,
rather than regretting another girl
being stripped off dignity
and life.


(caption)

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Hello!
I am starting a poetry challenge for myself. I will be writing one poem every day for the next hundred days. The poems on some days will be good, on some days mediocre and sometimes pure crap. The aim is to not create a masterpiece every day but to make myself sit and write. We are writers and poets not because of the quality of the writing we produce but for the fact that we write despite realising how bad we are and how far we have to go.
You are free to join me on this journey by taking up this challenge. So, let's go #100poemsfor100days.

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present
bulb. I'm that
opened, I'm a fused
I'm a book which is never
could I receive those w i s h e s
as p r e s e n t s being 'no one', being
an orphan, carrying an unnumbered age
and being an unadressed verse to a p o e m.

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