Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

scattered thoughts

i am just back with my tea.been in the office since eight this morning,and so,am tired a bit.its 10am already as i type this.there is this cute chick jabbering on the phone in front of me.i give her a look,and turn back.she gives me a look in turn,then goes back to her jabbering.i think she [...]

madness

i welcome mornings, with a gauche half-relief, embracing blood-red madness descending from the east, transitioning from unrest and disquiet of the night, to a morose,half lost sadness, camouflaged by the clamour of the birds, and a mad,repining day spreads over everything, celebrating the victory of insanity…again. i accept the light that deepens all the dark, [...]

90 days

kuch aisi baat hai jo kahi nahi jati, tum ab bhikhwab ban ke aankhon me aati ho, aur udaasi ban ke dil pe bikhar jaati ho. tumhari hansi yaad aati hai kabhi, chhanakte ghungroo pehne raat shabnam bikher rahi ho jaise, ya kuch bolte bolte tumhara yuun khamosh ho jaana, mano khusboo bikherti hawa, ek-a-ek [...]

lifetime

i,sometimes, get tired of my own story, of seeing in me,a tired pilgrim, wandering, aimless and emotionless, trying to look beyond the stars with myopic eyes, i get tired of seeing a black vaccum. sometimes,i feel,like- i have been looking for a future, in the dazed half-dream of a sleepy eye, aimless and emotionless, unknowing [...]

edward scissorhands

i have become an insomniac again…generally leave for work around 7 in the morning…come back home by 9..eat..go to bed at 11..and then toss and turn till 2-3am..i came away 2000kms from you,hoping that work,the eternal painkiller will help me forget..and i spend all of my day working…and yet..in the nights..WHY DO YOU HAVE TO [...]

illusions

i nurse my loneliness, preserving it,seeding it,irrigating it, and harvesting my crop of sadness.. i sprinkle it with vodka, inhaling the fragrance of gloom, pervading my life,saturating my senses, allowing me to focus on my loss, which is the only thing i have, desperately clinging to it.. the vodka is a good friend, gives me [...]

  • About The Line under the Blog Name

    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.
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