I had no words to say

How I really feel

“I love you” seems so trite,

“I’m yours”, too cheesy.

Let’s dispense with those elusive words,

Let romantics and poets grapple with them

Let’s simply be,

Let’s smile, and kiss, and make love

Let’s fight and make up and move on.

Once in a modest while,

We might go for a starlit swim,

While we dry off and lie on the grass,

I’ll count your freckles and trace your scars.

When we wake as the moon sets,

I’ll hold you close and whisper my love

Not for the world, not to be heard and celebrated

Just for you, and me, and the stars that still shine on.


There’s a bruise in my heart

That refuses to heal.

In the light of day

It’s bearable, benign

Easy to ignore.

In the dark of night, it pickles

It prickles, burns

And oozes poison

In my body,

In my mind,

In the very core of my being.

I know not, how to heal it

Nor how to dispel its hold

I live in fear

That one day

The light won’t banish it

I will succumb to it

My soul, tarnished forever

For nothing good ever comes of darkness.


A light snow started to fall right as the ferry was ready to depart. The day was still breaking, early morning sunbeams painting the sky in blues, purples and reds like a Jackson Pollock canvas. The horn blew twice, its echoes reverberating in the placid depths of the Sound. The seagulls perched on the wooden posts close to the harbour didn’t even stir at the sound, they must have gotten used to these by now.

As the harbour is receding, I turn around for a final glance. You are still at the rope line, staring in my direction. If I squint, I can see the intensity in your midnight blue eyes, pinning me to the spot, tethering me to you. I can still feel you; your scent on my skin, your hands on my body. As I breathe in lungfuls of salty ocean air, I can taste you on my lips. I can feel the sea, you and me.


“I love you”, he said.

“Wait for me”, he said.

I didn’t know whether or not to believe him. I didn’t know if he would break my heart again, I wasn’t sure I could take the chance.

My heart disagreed, I knew that she would always wait for him.

In the interim, what was I to do – the disconnect between my brain and my heart wasn’t new, it was always a defining factor of our relationship. My brain had always warned me against trusting him. My heart still believed in unicorns and rainbows and silver linings. I don’t know who to listen to anymore …


Unseasonal rain reminds me of you,

Surfacing like a memory

Buried far beneath …

As lightning rolls by the sky

I’m reminded of your smile,

Rare and electric,

And a joy to behold.

The thunder of your timbre

Reverberates within me,

Now and always.

The cold breeze envelopes me,

All over,

Like your arms once did.

In the refreshed earth,

I can smell your scent,

Parching me from within …


I want to write a thousand poems,

To your radiant smile

The way your dimples flash,

When you look into my eyes.

I want to sing out loud,

About your sparkling eyes

Whose intriguing depths,

I hope, one day, to map out.

I want to immerse myself,

In the melody of your voice

Those gorgeous baritones,

That reverberate in my soul.


I want to be the lyrics

To every poem you’ve ever read,

To every song you’ve ever heard,

To every melody you’ve ever hummed …



Isn’t fame a rather fickle friend,

Lifts you up and drops you down,

In the blink of an eye …

Leaves you to contemplate

Who you could’ve been,

If not for it.

It blinds, quite literally,

Binds your eyes

To a life beyond it,

It tempts, everyone at some point

Attempts to make one its own…


-Well, this turned out to be rather pedantic *facepalm*


Rain brings with her a mixture of emotions. My moods often vary as hers does.

A summer drizzle that tickles my nostrils with the scent of the parched earth soaking in rain drops fills me with joy. Summer is the season of mangoes and jackfruits and pomelos. The scattered showers accentuate the sweet scents of their blossoms. When I was a child, I watched many a summer shower from the shelter of the dense foliage of a tall pomelo tree.

In autumn, rain is a confusing concept, she makes me feel both hopeful and a little sad at the same time; sad that the summer has passed, and hopeful for the upcoming winter. Where I grew up, October showers are a spectacular occurrence. Rain falls in sheets, with the percussive accompaniment of thunder and a riveting lightning show. The purple sky splitting into shards of light is a sight one needs to see to believe. The thunder that rumbles in the mountains reverberates within you, deep within your soul.

In winter, rainΒ  is a surprise,not always a pleasant one. She brings with her, a coat of fog that hides everything away. She darkens the sky and depresses me. Often the mood (mine and hers) lasts all day, and sometimes for several days, the whining wind, the cold drizzle, the mist … When it finally clears, the mornings dawn crisp and fresh and … heavenly.

Spring rain is a flighty creature. She arrives and departs in the blink of an eye, leaving the day light and airy. The only sign of her ever having been there, the tiny drops that glitter on the dancing petals. She is my favourite of them all, the enchantress who envelopes me in her hasty embrace before vanishing into the thin air …

The purple tree at the end of the road

The bright lights were almost too much for Joan to handle. She almost closed her eyes before remembering that she shouldn’t. She remembered thinking to herself, this is the finish line then, this is where it all ends…

When she woke up, she felt strangely at peace. It was an unsettling feeling, for she had never known such peace, ever. She opened her eyes to what looked like a park. She was lying on what seemed to be grass which was rapidly turning white. She looked around, it was snowing. That threw her a bit, she could’ve sworn it was July. Funnily enough, she wasn’t cold at all, nor was she getting wet even though she were standing in the snow in what passed as summer clothes. She realised that she was standing halfway up a hillock. She looked up to see nothing but darkness on the path leading up. A little way down from where she was, she spotted a strange tree that emitted a purple glow. She wondered briefly, how she could tell that it was purple, for other than the ghostly white snow, all was dark.

She hesitated for a minute or two, then decided to make her way down to the tree. As she walked downhill, she became aware of the changing light. It became brighter, but not piercingly so. Bit by bit, her surroundings became clearer. It wasn’t night anymore. Nor was it snowing anymore. She was walking on a grassy path. There were tiny yellow and red flowers under her feet, peeking their heads up shyly, as if to say hello. There was a light, pleasant, breeze that reminded her of the late springs of her childhood. She walked until there was no path to walk on. She was at the edge of a pond with clear, glassy green water. She could see life underneath. There were plants in a variety of colours that looked as if they were lit within. There were schools of fish and other life forms, some swimming placidly by, others resting among the plants. She looked toward the tree again. She didn’t know why, but she felt that it is her destination, somehow, it was very important that she get there.

As she kept looking at the tree, the water that was lapping at her feet swept away to both sides it. There was a path of completely dry sand leading up to the tree. She hesitated for a moment, all of it seemed too easy, too good to be true. She made up her mind to take a chance and stepped on to the white sand. She walked right to the base of the tree. She looked up to the branches, there seemed to be no end to them. She couldn’t see where the tree ended and the sky began. She didn’t know what to do now. She looked up again, to see her mother smiling down at her. At her shoulder were everyone she had thought she’d never see ever again, all smiling down at her. She was at a total loss for words. She smiled through her tears as her mother took her in her arms and said, “Dearest, you’re home again”.