Let’s breathe poetry! 

Let’s take a delve as to how poetry makes life beautiful.

I tuck metaphors under my pillow, 

Slip similes between my bedsheets, 

And hyperbole below my mattress.

I pass dreamily into a sensible, sound, serene sleep of alliterations. 

With cacophonous sounds casting onomatopoeias, 

And with nature being personified. 

Such dramatically sound dreams. Oh, you oxymoron! 

I smile and savour sarcasm, 

Working to create ripples of irony. 

Sometimes I portray myself as, 

Comradely, polite and courteous 

When I pass rude comments veiled with euphemism, 

I assure myself that my alluring attitude of the use of assonance is appealing and appeasing. 

I work, to beautify language, 

Dropping stones to make mountains, 

Drip water to make a river flow, 

And then when they meet, 

The waterfall leaves you gasping for breath. 

And thus I create an imagery. 

It’s truly scenic, the beauty of words forming a work of art. 

I slip poems in my pockets, 

I rhyme the beating of my heart

With the twinkling of your eyes, 

Portraying you as a synecdoche. 

I drop verses in every corner, hoping

That eventually they’ll meet up, 

To form the perfect poem. 

We are all in sync with

The movement of the world, 

Our breaths and beats are in

Rhythm with our body. 

We are all poems, waiting to be 

Written and deciphered. 

We wish to transfer epithets, 

So come, let’s breathe poetry. 


The journey of climbing up on the emotional ladder.

Climbing up the ladder, 

The ladder of success, 

The ladder to happiness and satisfaction. 

Had climbed so many rungs, 

Had pushed down so many. 
First I climbed on time, 

Sacrificed my weekends, 

Burned my desires 

Transforming from a perennial party man 

To the mundane workaholic, 

I didn’t mind it since my career was sorted.
They called the next rung sleep, 

Sleep, that straightens the creases of your soul 

DIsapparates you into a mystical land to let go off your frenzied. 

But, I thought  it was for the unmotivated easily content souls,

And found it easy to give up, 

To ascend up the ladder till the top. 

Next I gave up my hobbies, 

The things that add panache to your life, 

Like the first drizzle that washes 

Away the heat in your heart, that quenches your thirst.

I gave it up for success to be my hobby.

I was breathing in contentment. 
What was the next rung? 

Ah, friendships did they call it? A word from the pinching past  

I didn’t be the bestman at my best friends wedding because of the work  I had to do. 

He broke bonds with me in protest.

He should have understood my plight, shouldn’t he? He was my best friend after all. 

Maybe he was jealous of me, of having reached so high. 

I decided to let him go. 

And thus,  I climbed and climbed, 

halting and faltering 

Pushed down many, 

Backstabbed many

Until,  I was a rung short, family. 

I never decided for a family of my own, 

Because a wife and children 

Restrict you emotionally, socially and financially. 

I never had the time for that. 

The frequency of my mom’s calls has declined, 

Maybe one day I’ll call her back, when 

She’s free of her Alzheimer’s that I just came to know about. 

And here I sit, atop the world, 

The world that I made, 

Of mountains and azure. 

Of palaces and huts. 

Extending, till my line of sight 

So many places to go,

But, not a single place to call

My home. 

The Sea-rene Deceit 

Nature is a great teacher, but is it wise to blindly emulate it?

Casting ripples, all over the surface 

Due to the perennial movement,

Of the winds and tides, 

Moving in a direction 

Not bound to your wishes, a path 

Not tracing towards your goal. 

I pitied at your plight then, 

For I would have never forsaken my pride 

Due to undue influences. 
Giant waves, striking the rocks 

And wetting the shores, 

Sometimes so huge 

That you cast your terror 

Across the world. 

Creating ripples of misdemeanor 

Over worldly faces.

I marveled at your magnanimity then, 

For I wish to go from calm to chaos 

When provoked and needed. 
The wind, that flows over your mane, 

And the waves,  that run across your face, 

Guide yachts and ships to destinations, 

And help aquatic migration. 

But, then the storm in your mind 

Can make people lose their tread, 

Drowning them into unknown seas and 

Thrusting them into infinite darkness. 

I admired your prudence then, 

Of helping people who need it and

Avenging those who misuse you. 
The fish that swim in your water, 

The corals that have made you their home, 

The biodiversity that you enrich, 

And how you and them both suffer

During foreign calamities, 

Losing parts of your family 

In every such disaster. 

I was inspired by your humility then, 

To help others bloom and live and

You made me understand how a family is 

Not bound by blood but by love. 

Lives, stays and suffers together. 
Your diurnal and nocturnal tides, 

Caused by mood swings 

Of the moon and sun. 

Blue tinge on your surface,  

Due to the reflection of the skies above. 

I mocked at your beguilement then, 

The masks that you wore, concealing

Your true identity. 

And then I ruminated,   

How you and nature breathe human too.

I wanted you to be my role model 

But it seems you’re not perfect too. 

Emotional Wreck

A delve into the cocktail world of emotions.

You were the iceberg, 

Mighty and firm. 

Silently had you set your fort 

In the calm waters of the tumultuous sea, 

Adding ripples of your own mood. 

But, I underestimated you, 

Seeing only,  your tip,   

Sparkling in majesty, 

Challenging the skies above. 

However,  here I remained, 

Aloof about your deep roots, 

your buried end, 

That was strong, and 

Trembled every heart, 

And the ocean floor below. 

I was the ship, 

Desiring to make you my own. 

Attracted by that bizarre sparkle, 

Shining against the glaring sun, 

As if million diamonds conjoined under 

Some mysterious spell, 

To overthrow sun in the race. 

I darted at you, 

An arrow released from a bow, 

Aiming straight at you. 

My desire to hold you 

Reached magnanimous heights 

As soon as I got close. 

I knew I would make it. 

As an arrow striking the red dot, 

Hitting the target. 

I considered myself so colossal 

With my mighty board and large sails. 


We had that emotional clash. 

A passionate disaster, 

I steered right into you, 

And smashed my heart 

Against your firm one,

Breaking it into a million pieces. 

You have made me an emotional wreck, 

All my pieces are still floating, 

Aimlessly to reach ashore, 

To a land called home, 

Where someone can conjoin 

Me back from

This emotional wreck. 


Let’s acknowledge the superwoman that’s enriching all our lives, not just today but every other day. Let’s treat them with the respect and love they rightfully deserve.

Haven’t you heard of 

Wonder woman and the 

black widow? 

Agile, Strong and

‘saving superman ‘powerful, 

Famed for being saviours

Not just here but in 

every nook and corner. 


These implausible heroes 

Do Give us hope. 

But, how unrealistic do they seem, 

With abilities so glorified. 

We need simple heroes, 

Simple but heroic in their personality. 

One such superwoman we 

See in every corner, 

Working tirelessly

To maintain balance 

In her own little universe. 

Donning her Cape, 

Be it her Saree or dupatta 

Or that long scarf 

hanging as a drape. 

She can set the house 

From disorder to order, 

With the ultimate 

Finesse and grace. 

She has superpower abilities, 

Of being active 

And functional 

With minimal amount of sleep. 

And makes a sumptuous breakfast, 

For everyone that need it. 

And then sends out lunch, 

In tiffins of love 

For all prandial needs. 

Her telepathic skills 

Spread far and wide. 

She can decipher your mood 

Bright as day or 

Solemn as night, 

How much 

You try to hide or 

Be cunning and sly. 

And did I tell you, 

About her detailed analysis 

Of your expressions when 

You cast a white lie. 

Every blink, every crease, 

Every wrinkle, 

She so thoughtfully notices 

And with utmost certainty 

Can brand you a liar. 

Oh boy! I hope you have a good explanation then.


She’s the epitome of unconditional love, 

Pure, unbridled, acmal love. 

She’ll feed you till 

You grow fat and would 

Still be blinded by all that flab. 

Incessantly fretting 

About your meals

She always feels you don’t eat well. 

With detective qualities 

That run in her blood

She can find

Every item that you did misplace

Or an object that you thought

Ceased to exist. 

Her home is her palace, 

And she knows all her pawns

And the places that they do dwell. 

Her prayers  have power, 

Power that bring

Your ideas into existence, 

Your Dreams into reality, and

Your desires to fulfillment. 

It seems she has connections 

With the Almighty 

For her swift acceptance 

Of prayers. 

With such bizarre powers, 

It’s time we acknowledge, 

The superwoman residing 

In our homes. 

She saves her world 

From all the perils by surrounding it 

under the shadow of her arms. 

She was always meant to 

Be a queen ruling our hearts 

With all her acumen and powers. 

Let’s give her, her throne 

With adulation and respect 

Which she rightfully deserves. 

Superhero Fooled

There are many who consider being strongly empathetic is nothing less than a superpower, but how this power damages us ourselves is also a part of this story.

You know, my friend,  what I think? 

I think 

I reek of superhero capabilities:

For I feel each emotion so dearly

Empathy and compassion are my superpowers

And in my power,  I augment peace for you

By adding,

Mirth in your happiness,

Joy in your success,

Bitchery in your irritation,

However, sometimes

I try to save you from perils and strive to lessen your burden,

By replacing,

sadness with joy

fear with acceptance

And anger with calmness.
But, my friend you disdainfully believe –

My superheroic capabilities

Make me nonchalant and apathetic

As if

I’m above feelings and sentiments and

Do not succumb to emotions. But,

Didn’t you know?

Superhero I maybe,  but with

A heart,  wrought with passion and devotion

Caged to desires and depression,

To glee and frustration,

To anger and contemplation.

We’re emotional fools too

Because superheroes are human too.

We’re poets; we’re heartbroken 

I think this one is relatable to all those who have written endlessly to quench the inner frustration and subdue their dilemma.

Sitting aghast;

chained by thoughts,

Amidst the tears.

They seem to form a pool around,

A pool of seclusion,

A pool of solidarity and insolence.
Slowly desires change,

Anger thrusts in the

face of sadness,

And finally dwells over.
The anger pinches you,

Punches you,

Bores holes, holes

deeper than man – holes.
You’re choking in

Your self made emotions,

That emotional claustrophobia

Leaves you gasping for air,
It’s not air that you want,

It’s respite.
Feeling, why do you have these

Feelings in the first place,

Slowly, you envy that

Apathetic friend,

Who glees at everything.
You still can’t breathe.

It clenches you,

Dry mouth, parched throat.

You pick up your pen.
You start writing your storm.

The words that you write,

Powerful than tornadoes,

Tornadoes that ripped your heart,

Your body, your world.
You write, write till the doorway of your

Emotions doesn’t close

You write, till you reach the

Threshold of normalcy.
Eyes swell, heart slows,

Breath normalizes.

There’s a feeling,

A vague feeling of respite.
Your desires are quenched,

You’re still heartbroken,

The turmoil has reduced

But it’s still there.
Wondering, soliciting, still unsure,

If the storm is gone?

Or this is the calmness,

Before the next storm?
You then ponder on,

A dilemma that you can never answer –

To have these feelings,

And be heartbroken poets or,

To read heartbroken poets.