Whispers of Heart

  The pride, the wealth, the ties strong, What matters who was right or who was wrong? The coffers filled for what sake, When the body lying in coffin does not shake? The disputes, the commitments, the anger held, Somehow, on death, it all get settled. The emotions, the tragedies, the occasion remain memories, Once we cherished, the joy of eating cookies.  Yet, the God existing or non existing, remain the spotlight, For it is believed, he makes one fly high and he cuts the kite.  For the pain, regrets and anxiety, No consolation remains available, The wealth, status and the world seems nonsense, If the minds could be checked - 'unstable' would be the label.  Amidst all the mess and trauma, The only truth of Death dominates, The mind becomes the yard Where thoughts of fear and grief together skates.  The death of the loved ones cause deepest pain to human hearts, It takes courage to build our pieces together for a fresh start. Yet, Death remains the most harsh an...

A friendship devoid of begging, judgements, and partiality, Bond that keeps you fixed to the reality, Where no 'mine' or 'yours' exist, Meet ups! Uff, we can't resist. Where tears find no place, We uplift each other, woah, such grace! No scope of letting each other down, We are women, We carry our own crown. Where you don't need to call They are at your doors, Of course, they're lovely, They are only two in crores.  The bond that has touched the worst and the best is yet to come, Our bond is our addiction, no need of rum. We are there,  At the time of adversity and delight, Where everything is mutual and understandable, No fight of who's wrong or right.  Yeah, somewhat wise, and we are somewhat crack, Haha, Welcome, welcome, the one and only -  V3 is back!

When summers arrive, yet winter rules the heart,  When everything seems like ending With no hope to restart. When old friends feel like new, And you're understood by only a few, You are perplexed. You question each bond, life and soul, The bonds that once felt like the whole, Now seem stranger, distant and partial.  The breaths - you even dislike to breathe, The  voices, invoices, the sound of the clock- Everything frustrates; it all creates havoc.  You sometimes crave a shoulder to cry on, Yet you now believe in the art of not expecting.  O Pity Perplexity, You seek yet you deny, You adjust yet you complain, You feel wisdom, yet you turn insane.  Maybe the inner chaos affect the words, create commotion.  Maybe the untimely cries express unresolved emotions. Maybe expecting a happy you when the world is upside down Is too much to ask for. What brings peace- Solitude or crowd? A lifeless life or shroud? We have no clue.

It’s been two months since I received your last call, and a second since I imagined your pretty face. It’s completely foolish of me that I could never tell you face-to-face that you were the prettiest, you were the strongest, and I adored you so much. It was always through my poems or the gifts I gave you that I tried to express my love. But I know you knew me—you understood that I am a complex being. Most of my relationship with you revolved around lecturing you on what to do and what not to, when I was truly incapable of even deciding what to wear. I haven’t looked at myself properly in the mirror since I lost your physical presence—because I’m too afraid to face the you that lives in me. I’m afraid because whenever I used to turn away from the mirror, you were always there, and I could ask you whether the dress suited me or not. But now, seeing no you behind me... it hurts. You know, I try to think less about you, because there isn’t a single thought of you that doesn’t bring a...

When the silent cries remain silent no more, You feel like standing on the sea shore. You wish to scream, but you still hold— You're trying your best to mould. The pain, though, feels intense, And the anxious being finds peace no longer In lighting incense. The memories that do not give peace— Even one glimpse brings tears in millions, The dreams that feel real bring fears in trillions. What does the heart long for, When it has turned weak and fragile? What does the body do, When life seems to have stopped for a while? The heart longs for nothing but the beloved who rests in heaven. The heart feels stuck at 9:40, When it's already eleven...