I write, I erase

a legit affair with backspace,

what harrows this heart-

expanding excavation,

meanderings of a graveled maze


midst of green fields and clear sky

a breeze so gentle brushing my hair aside

just as lips curve in a sweet smile,

a sudden twitch in my right eye

wake up! wake up!

horrendous clouds are magnified


it shines, it blurs and then it rains

what is living without mistakes?

despair in love,

or agony of loss,

regret of choices went wrong;

unable to weigh in words, how to portray?

strayed emotions do haunt, if not conveyed 


key down and key up

key down and key up

a stream of letters flow by

amidst the chaotic silence and click-cries

skeptical of the story, how to tell?

stage of scrabble is set to rationalize

will I be then excused- a happening passerby?


ink is smeared, drafts finalized

grains scatter, pages prowl into a pile

sinful summer strips with autumnal prying

treaded to roots, winter shivers of withdrawal arise

in blooming cups of spring, I seek ablution

I am changing like seasons

and, mother nature is my alibi



Truth is the acceptance of its existence. It lies on the demarcation of acknowledgement from ignorance. Ignorance is bliss and acknowledgment of truth is where the awakening begins.

©Written Frames, 2019



Where is my heart?


Where is my heart?

You hear, swallowed in the layers of flesh

Mortal murmurs of yearning egress

Recoils from the flesh of uncertainty this skin is layered with


Uncertainty of shifting muse

You see, the balance beneath my chest displaced

Sideways, where shackled heart does lie chafed

Weighed and decrepit to lift a will


Torn equilibrium of the willing

You feel, the ache at the feat of desires

Crushed under the run of contrast decisions on fire

Wronged congeniality with societal norms gravitates


Pleasant pull of gravity

You know, protruding eye of skies downpour

Reflect into rivulets, they travel down the slope

Certitude of oceans absorb them in


Where is my heart?

You shalt witness the upfront roar of the afraid

Twirl about the pivot, rusted will to persuade

Cuffs of newborn shattered to smithereens


Where is my heart?

Here is my heart, O you carry if worthy

Placed on your palms it quivers at your mercy

And with a courtesy, “Where is your heart?”


You answer me


©Written Frames, 2018

Image Source

Lost and found



the bones shrouded by silence

head discoes to the drum roll

of inner swell that bangs


numbness, this numbness

eyes know not how to blink

shred and scrap from the red roof falls

a heart with a limp is dragged


destruction, destruction

thumps and thuds of caustic silence

the bod swings on a blue tide so high

unleash the eruption within, gush out


deafening disquietude

these cues of un-spelled languages

sear the tongue succumbed to smoky distaste

dry cough of doubt with finesse


welcome, o welcome

leak from a faucet so worn out drips

ticking clock and creak of closing doors

shift of focus relieves


submissive invasion

into nothingness, escape from oneself

everything to find where one would be self

the noise shushed by intruders


sleep now


Written Frames, 2018

Shades And Tints


A coiled convolution, not checkered skin with monochrome base

We don’t breathe black or white but radiant fire

Heap of hues stacked to slip beneath our foot

Shade by shade, garnishes the path we take and walk


Yes, we are shades and tints, never a color

A call for a choice what attracts and repels

To color a leaf spring green or of autumn-ash

Pick a pastel and paint the experience of this landscape


We ain’t black or white tinned, this skin of vanilla shade

Circumstantial bad and good, love and hate

Suit of first hues unraveled define us in their eyes

Wait for us to dye in different blush before you judge us away


Yes, we are shades and tints on trial

Aim to fuse into earth toned, blooming colorful flowers

With running blue and swaying greens, of bright beams through the grey clouds of destiny

To be loved by the bodies pigmented in the colors of different direction they walk


adapting and accepting


© Written Frames, 2018