I wake up, vowing to live

mornings with missing eyelashes


knowing, I dream a lot

with dreams, I wish whatnot


if a lash lands on your palm; the chances,

forget not to blow it off


knowing, it is coming from me

a dandelion leaf of the magic foreseen


blown into the stardust of universe, and

song of connecting strings


we hold



It was already an hour into the new year and I could not hit the bed just then. My mind runs on a a poetic engine and a poem was so necessary to fuel it up into next gear.

Here is a poem to a year full of dreams and wishes to come true. Happy New Year pals!

❤ ❤

Every day is new and may you do something new each day. Make every moment count.

Lots of love and gratitude for your continuous support!

Hope you like the poem! ❤


©Written Frames, 2019




Make me believe


a multitude of leaves yellowed and dried

with a finger on lip

a few bit their tongue tip

doomed to be crushed, silently they lie

or am I deaf? No, none of them cried;

seasonally promised of rebirth-

they believed


so are we? we are parched and dried,

plucked from our hives, tired of our fights

flown off to faraway lands- barren and bare

no roots to provide refuge and no touch of care

will we ever bloom again?

do we deserve another shower of rain?


make me believe we do

I will bloom, I long for you.


To believe is not about what you think is right. To believe is to hang on to something you wish to exist.

To believe is to hope.


© Written Frames, 2018


Endeavour against odds…


Heavy hearted though warm I feel
The skies are high, painted in teal
I am weak, a tyro with spirits at peak
Time has come to leave the nest
Steal the sights, fly high my best!

Flap the wings, may the mood swings
Light up-cheer up-be alive!
Wind may oppose ,its my first flight.
Face the thunders, don’t let it rain
Do hold the clouds till energy drains.

My wings are heavy, want a break
Perch of memories, I might fall prey
A moment to live, rest I don’t care
Now I am tired, and I am sane
Soon I will fly my home again.



P.S. How often do we go restless with a purpose to do something out of routine? How frequent do we experience the chasm between what we need to do and what we want to? No matter where we are, what we do , the stigma of incompleteness denies to leave our side.

We try , try hard to do it. To achieve that one thing, that keeps on haunting you with your eyes open to see the world but closed enough to disregard the fact of it being not so apt to make you feel complete, we tend to venture through boundaries in the dreamy pursuit of our purpose.

There is one or other thing which continues to test your audacity and challenges your persistence and leaves you to give an answer to ‘What for?’. A nostalgic memory drags you to look back for one more time with each step you take forward.  The real provocation comes from within. What if my step could be more firm, what possibly the outcome would be.


©Written Frames, 2017



As they look at you, you are complete

And you vacant by heart, in dire need

Tears trickle down the untouched cheeks

As if sky pours on fallen autumn leaves.


Torn into pieces, crushed and cracked

Taken away with the flow, get mud leashed

You swim with the woeful will of shackled belief

Servile stare at them who still sway on trees.


Dried but to the drowned they look complete

Succumbed to the change, the bleached would fall

Each will follow the drenched, how mighty they may be,

For how long hope could be a living possibility?


Hope is a beautiful lie you convince yourselves with; for truth is far-fetched without a sign of hope.

Hope sustains the possibility of long run happiness rather than a perfect, permanent, present damage.


© Written Frames, 2017