The Secret

A poet like me is a wannabeLiving in dual worldsOne that lives in convex lenses of lifeAnd one that sees life in concave lenses through words

Coloured ink

I do not know if the ink is blue, black or redif the verses spelled out are sweet,subtle or stressedin my eyes,the ink’s shade does not matterI am more worried about its shadow going to… Read More »Coloured ink


What is it you are set to achieveWhen your ink doesn’t spell loveDoes not compel for peaceWhat is it you are set to claimWhen your ink doesn’t shy from causing painAnd that doesn’t even look… Read More »Achievement


As her mind entangles with the yellowish pages of lonelorn library book, her soul sips into ┬ádungeons of the mystic lanes of new york where Sylvia,her enchanting muse is seated in a bureau office inspecting… Read More »Dungeons


The curtains have turned paleInk has lost its voiceThe soul doesn’t feel the sameIn its coffin it rests with the ink…

Writer’s block

The quill is dentedThe ink has driedThoughts are buriedMy page has forgotten how to smile