A visit from Mnemosyne

Stubborn muse crushing the silence,

Ostracizing a poets choice for subsidence.

Rummaging within deeply settled thoughts,

Restoring the pain from a fight long lost.

Yearning for peace in Moira’s cruel world,

But tranquility is nothing but an illusion hurled.

Under the comfort of a memory he cowers,

Tacitly tending to a wounded promise of ‘forever’.

Deadly poison drank at a hidden park of bliss,

Arduous passions trapped in a labyrinthine abyss.

Requiems from a pink flying unicorn dinosaur,

Nestled memory of a silvery moon restored.

Irritating Cheshire re-creating a suspended story plot,

Making the poet think of that tiny green dot.

Macrocosmic tel-pad retention topped with coffee,

Ineffable pancakes and Sapio-sexuality…

Synchronicity ascertained on an abandoned soul tree,

Stellar contingency, and the usual “Stop saying sorry!”, (^__^)

Irrational belief in the numbers 12 and 7,

Never ending shouts to CB in heaven.

Golden snails and metal butterfly wings,

Yellow caterpillars, bicycle springs,

Odes and tragedy, 'camera lens' (a very shameful poetry,)

Undulating reason between reality and fantasy…

Desperately fixing a chaotically structured yet beautiful hair,

Echoing voices: “Don’t even go there!”

Elevated by these thoughts, the poet starts to smile,

Pulling himself away from the world’s guile.

Letting go of the hostility, accepting destiny,

Yet still…. 'twas a blissful tragedy...

Loving Luna as certain things are meant to be loved,

Keeping the emotions, secretly ............

“behind the shadow, the soul... below and up above...

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A Blank Verse Poetry

I ran this morning. Gray sky, nothing special. Weather that doesn’t force you to feel anything. Usually, I wander without purpose. Today, something stopped me. Time is a trap. We pretend it’s limited, but it isn’t. So we rush through it—steps, choices, life—until it all blurs. The small things disappear. The smell of earth, the quiet air. Gone. A song got stuck in my head. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Unwanted. Persistent. How did it get in? Maybe fate. Maybe nothing. I don’t believe in destiny, but here I was—stuck in the sound, stuck in a loop. The world paused inside me. I didn’t move. The day went on. Hands trembled—not from connection, but from the weight of existing. Scars on skin—maps of past failures. Nothing clean, nothing clear. I touched a cheek. No softness. Smoke? Habit? Grip loosened—like sanity slipping. Wanting to let go, but afraid of the emptiness that follows. I kissed a cheek. A stupid move. A laugh broke the silence. A glitch. A mistake. Coffee a...

The Slow Death of the Familiar Lie

The 2025 elections just ended. Not with fireworks, not with riots—just the quiet unraveling of yet another chapter in our nation’s long and complicated dance with democracy. There’s something different in the air this time. Something subtle, like the way dusk falls before you even realize the day is gone. You feel it before you name it: a shift. Not seismic, perhaps not even visible to the untrained eye. But there, like a whisper at the edge of a crowded room. People have grown wiser. And no, this isn’t naive optimism. It’s not the kind of blind faith that wears campaign colors and chants slogans. It’s the kind of wisdom that comes from repeated heartbreak—from choosing hope too many times, only to be betrayed by men in suits and smiles. From believing in change only to see it morph into the same old trapo politics dressed in newer fonts. “Pain is a brutal but effective teacher—especially in a country where memory is often the first casualty of every election cycle.” But maybe ...

Stars and Songs

It’s 2 am and I am still awake. Though I had a long nap this afternoon, for some reason, my stubborn brain suddenly erupts in these manic streaks. My mind suddenly reboots itself and in a couple of minutes, I become as hyper as a kid who just ate 27 chocolate bars. Since it’s pointless to lie down and struggle to find the best position, I took my laptop, go out at the porch and started writing. As sat there, I looked at the heavens and there shines my moon together with the stars. The sky was barren of clouds and you can perfectly see how the earth is blanketed by the dark sky as the moon and the stars gave it an enchanting touch. The moon’s light is waning, so are my thoughts. I guess I am lunatic as I can write lots whenever the moon goes full. I consider the moon as my muse so I wondered, Why can't I shift my obsession to the stars? I think this is quite improbable. Stars are illusions, I mean, most of the time, the light that we see from these stars are actually t...

Fragments of the Quiet Mind

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