Tag Archives: writer



Nostalgia arrives
Like mighty tides
Ebb and flow
High and low
From time to time
Clime to clime
Maybe its the crazy pills
Maybe its just me
Dwelling in bubbling thoughts
Reviving, rediscovering, revolving
Hidden, yet vivid
Gruesome, and livid
Old memories
Humid, dampened
Books in the attic
Layered with dust
A muddy crust
Enveloping pages
Ages upon ages
Hued and textured by
Big black clouds
Roaring loud
That come and go
High and low
Coming again today
Distant, abate
To open a window
Let the wind blow
Gusts of emotions
Rapid motions
How I hated school
How I loved the rain
The joy, the pain
How I hated my dingy home
Existing on my own
It comes to me
But only in my dreams.




Drip, drip, drip
Another failure
Another slip
The unbearable
Dreary routine
Rusted to the tip
Some days I grumble
Others I mumble
I don’t fall
But I stumble
On glassy words
On pointy shards
Jagged swords
Like violin chords
Same old, same old
Tired of being told
Your dreams
Too bold, too bold!
Free me
If you see me
Lunging, plunging
In to tyranny
For I fear
Being unaware
Caught in despair
All flames, no flare

Flesh and Bones


The empty space between my bones
The echoing rattles of hollow stones
The harrowing abyss of a hole in space
The blankness of a canvas sprawling my face
The seduction of melancholy on my skin
The blood in my veins infected with sin
The shackling muscles wringing my heart
The pushing, the pumping, the stop, the start
The verdict is final, the damnation eternal
The fallacy of a mortal; a tale infernal
The screams of agony fall silent like a mime
The battle of toil, a raging tide against time
The play begins with shrill of a piercing cry
The cry never leaves until the day you die

Halcyon Sky


Blurry circles and squares of light dimly lit the dark blue night that curtained over the city. She was hardly up this late. She’d sleep early but it was officially the last night before this summer would come to an end. She sat by balcony and let the light gusts of wind blow, slightly caressing her cheeks every now and then. The disturbing trademark summer heat was fading. Everything seemed to be uncannily still, tonight. She felt like she could even listen to her sister’s deep, slumber-ridden breaths from her bed.

She had never seen the sky like this before. She never realized how pretty it could be. Even though she wasn’t dreaming, it still felt like a dream. She liked dreaming. She was especially fond of making up her own dreams. She never liked the ones that would show up out of nowhere in her sleep. The dreams she would immerse into were always drawn on the broadest canvas she could imagine. Something like a huge frozen lake she could endlessly skate on, bare footed She didn’t know why but it made her happy. Dancing and twirling flawlessly on the ice for the world to see. Yet she would be alone. That didn’t scare her. She never felt the lonliness in being alone. She only felt the joy of being in her dream.

Such was the joy she felt by the balcony railing just looking out at the city. Then she lifted her head up. It seemed so humongous. It was so far away but as her small, round face was parallel to the sky, it seemed very close to her. It was as if her lips touched its surface. Her big, wide eyes looked straight at the bluish purple hues of the roof above. The stars were like pretty little glittery freckles that beautified the night.

She didn’t think more than an eight year old hazy eyed, sleepy little girl could think. But there was something she knew from thereon. That the night would be her companion in the years to come. That the darkness didn’t terrify her, no matter how dauntingly huge it was. That there would always be light to shine on her, no matter how small it was. That she would dance her way to her dreams alone and unafraid. She turned around and tip toed her way back to bed and cosily snuggled her much-adored teddy bear before almost instantaneously falling asleep. That night, she aspired to dream more and more, and fall in love with her dreams. That night, she knew how to feel alive.

Lone Star


Are you happy?
You’ve set me
Your own path
Bee-free zone
A kingdom
Your own
Castle of thorns
Throne of bones
Your own sound
My towering height
Or powering flight
I would not know
Even if it was so
For I have sailed
Far ahead
To new horizons

Un… Amber


“You spell your name wrong,” said the plump aged man with the protuding beer belly, who claimed to be my dead father’s eldest brother with such atrocious pride. “It should be spelled Unber (the sky). Otherwise Amber is like the reminiscent burning ashes.”

“That’s exactly what I want it to be.”