Poem · poetry · Uncategorized

The valley of death.


(Pic Courtesy- Google)

I wrote this piece while I was watching ‘The Walking Dead”, It made me wonder whether the humanity, emotions and other abstract things in us remain or not, after we pass over to the other side. Do we still remain attached or we wander off to an unknown land.

In the valley of death, we walk alone,
there is no known or no unknown.
I wonder if we feel what we were,
Or we are just some new being.
What’s out there is completely unseen.

We are happy or sad,
or a creature full of hungry angst.
Do colors remain?
Red, blue , green,
what if it’s a vacuum?
With no sound and nothing to be seen.

Do we remember our beloved?
or the one with whom we used to play in mud.
Those childish feuds,
those adult abuse,
Do we leave it all behind?

What happens to us is still a mystery
No trace of it could be found even in our history?
And still we wait on the threshold,
To hug the unknown devil;
with comprised unknown perils.

Poem · poetry


Those dark canopies of trees

From which sun shine on me. 

Touching me gently on different places

This is where I want to be

My heaven in this hell

And the smell of earth and water

From a nearby well

 The damp , cold and hot

Become my ecstasy

In these ever changing epiphanies 

Everything changes except this.

Its an only living thing that I will miss.

history · Poem · poetry


A peek into the history made by our ancestors. A site whose glory has not dimmed a little and still stands magnificent in all its ruins. The last abode of their life, preserving our ancestors’ last journey.

“Let me lay in peace now

Don’t ask what my end was.

And I reached here how.

For I am away,

To heaven’s way.”

Poem · poetry

Sillage #2

My heart and body are both on fire.
The situation seems a bit dire.
I don’t know what will be the conquences
Of these intimidating incidences.
The riddle that is often at my mind
Is making me think on a very Long ride.
So I am just writing this silly poem to pass my ever chaotic time.
Because the peace is a thing I have left behind.
The riddle is good , it just wants time.
So that I can make it mine.

Poem · poetry

Sillage #1

I met him on a train
I am sure there wasn’t any rain
But seeing him my heart thundered
And I Wondered
Will I rise or will I fall
In to the depths of those pretty dimples
From now on I will try to keep it really simple
We met and talked,
We walked and talked.
We talked at home
We talked on phone.
We talked so much
Because we felt alone.
Coming back to that train,
When we met
His eyes shone.
Words like honey
Enchanted me slowly.
Fictional love entranced me
In to the same kind
I made an entry.
And again we talked of fables old,
Of novels, poems and tales told.
The talks were all that we had,
I know its not an ongoing fad.
He cried,
And I cried.
He tried
And I tried d.
We both became tired.
The thought of ‘us’ became fired.

It was my love
And not his
This was the thing
That I did miss.