a ramshackle bench and a river ahead

reminiscent of joints, soon would creak

an epilogue to the frequented visits, worn and wearing

a windswept accordion skirt, against the rusty knees

a strife, yet so unfaltering,,,,,,,,,


see her height arched, doth rest unpleated

a breath engulfed in shadow of autumn trees

a prism of solitude splitting threads

spin a spool, ripping from the mesh of memories

look through, with a clock ticking,,,,,,,,


rising effervescence, an outburst of abiding rivers

reviving the reflections that settle beneath

gripped and held with fervid vapors, bequeathed

of the air inhaled is the breath exhaled

of yesterday, tending today’s feast,,,,,,,,


©Written Frames, 2018


This poem is a tribute to ‘today’ from my life of tomorrow, remembering it all. This poem is a reason I give to myself why everyday has to count…..

For now and forever, making memories to live and celebrate …..



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

You all smell the same . .


Young and dreaming of love-
Love was yet superficial to me
Lyrics and rhythm was a baseline
On how love is meant to be;

I remember the nostalgic song
How one is in love, bound to long-
‘Please forgive me’, it went on and on
Marveled my body with goose bumps on;

And there comes that halt that hits
I remember the smell of your skin
How intimidate, how exposing of a line it is!
And back then you wondered, why I loved to sniff!! 🙂

With the time, to my discontent
My sense is deluded and deceived
You were absent, yet yours not-so-sweet aromatic presence
Socialized with air it hovers, it stinks to my unease.

Tell me how to remember you behind your disguise?
Engulfed with smoke and the most welcomed demise
You all smell of tobacco and shag-
You all smell the same to my bad!


P.S.  I was travelling via Uber Pool, sitting all disinterested for the hate of traffic. This is when my nostrils whiffed the maudlin smell and made me turn my head.

Just an another passenger.

And a familiar singed smell.

And the nostalgic song ‘Please forgive me’ by Bryan Adams that continued to hum somewhere back in my mind.

Why you have to bring yourself up at all the wrong places and for all the wrong reasons?


© Written Frames, 2017