The Writer’s Block


Be it prosaic, be it poetic- it is a writer’s block,
Sometimes it sort of happens, my brush in words I soak,
But when it comes to painting, those patterns in your eyes,
Sailing behind those eyes, my ships simply capsize.

With all the force that’s present, I hit that sheet with quill,
Construct, combine, create- there is plenty of will,
Yet something’s missing, something great,
It’s absconding- my creative tongue as if I ate.

I search for muse in nature, even in random ‘you’
For what I’m dwindling here, there’s no one to sue.
I run around in circles, like moon or like the sun,
Still touch can’t I the surface- this is not done!

I walk voided on ground, the depths are far from reach,
I wish some inspiration could come down and teach
Me how to dig, to dig the gravel till the roots of words,
To irrigate this waste of land, but seed I for the birds.

Too many vague ideas- those seeds fall unto earth
But none succeeds to grow- that’s my poetic dearth.
I beg:- “Oh birdies, leave some for me, please!”
Denied, I wish they turn into a bunch of flying trees.

I wish that one idea comes in the wake of day,
And just before the darkness, I could have my way,
Just before it slithers, catch by hook or by the crook,
I’d care and grow and proudly say:- “It the world had shook!”

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Romancing the Jewel


There’s one belief- one can’t deny
That angels fly, high in the sky.

And people say, they’re humans, just with wings,

I’d say- just birds, those worldly things.

But one can’t fool, when world’s aware

And try such thing- one wouldn’t dare.

We sit on bench, I contemplate

This ginormous emerald’s fate.

The cold, fresh air that thou inhale,

Comes from the green on city’s pale.

Thou’ll have to sit here- judge it’s size

I wish, I could lend thee my eyes

For either way thou’ll dissolve in bliss

But it gets better if thou don’t miss

How brook trails down into the lake

Canopy’s spearheads tremble and shake

Amongst the chaos of greenish shades

Hiding the sky, those leafy blades

And butterflies- burst, fly, explode

Trail deeper, cease tracing the road!

Enough of resting- we’ll return

Let this sea thy feelings churn

And like mood, let’s trek up hills

Along, collecting angel’s quills

They float on breeze, brushing thy lips

As thou take rest on rocky tips

And gaze at former spanning the sun

The green waves underneath will stun

Thee the more thou look, the more thou feel

Thine empty heart it’ll beg not, steal

And keep it in the dark abyss

Of one deep lake- thou cannot miss

As thou’ve sat on that one bench

Right before I gave thee a wrench

And made thee walk through green so strong

It flushed away all that feels wrong.

In Rains- umbrella-cap mushrooms,

Empty vast spaces, empty rooms,

And what not else that thou might see

Whilst over the edge of well gaze we

I bet, thou’ll remember that jolly place

Where bunnies jump around and race,

And mother goose with gooselings round

Away from monkey, walks around

And pups, those pups in paw and prance,

Play with thee well in awkward dance

And all those fishes in a wishing pit

Swim around, whilst their nurturers sit.

Arachnids, colourful insects and dragons,

Antelope trails- trekking bandwagons,

Lush green breath of city-odd freshness

Hitting like nature’s creative madness!

Climb up the tower, horizon scan,

And hills and lakes then see you can,

And suddenly right straight ahead

Angels descend- rightly said

Thence through the woods, a trail to follow

Rushing thee under that tree and a few hollow

Just right before they flutter and wail

And forget a feather from their tail.

And all those adventures blood thy pump

For thou have to crawl, climb and jump

To make through all of the miniscule joys

And get to the show for Big boys:

World’s cut in half by pink sunset,

Crickety aura then in gets set.

And wall of darkness sets on place

And lost thou art as if in space,


But look a sparkly matrix blooms up ahead,

It rains to sky through trees from bed

And when one dot towards you flies,

A myriad of fireflies- you realise!

We sit in silence, absorb the vibe

There’s no need for me to describe

Mellow senses, mellow mood, mellow us all in one

As long as we have Sanjay Van…

Panting Wolves and Dancing Squirrels


A distant drum beat, darkness, skies…
To creep one out a forest always tries…

So there’s a clearing, moonless blues…

With a bonfire this, on can confuse!

Vibrating- dancing shadows turned to spokes,

Prancing silhouettes and no one talks!

And round and round is all they go…

In circles, on sand thus dark ones flow…

There’s self- commotion once you see

And in a jiffy feel the glee…

That you’ve seen and with no perils,

Painting wolves and dancing squirrels!

Love Nature


An elegant curve of the path

With shades all around…

A pair of Arabesque hills

As they turn into the plotted math

Of scattered ponds on the ground…

And a few of memorable stills

Turning it’s whole beige core into wrath

Of multilateral picture- green all abound…

And ending at a pair of strings of matrix nils

Exploding into a flowy, shrill- shivery brown path

And stars exploding all around…

With all trees behind rising up like hills.

Contemplating about the hidden treasure

The Boom Impending


Something different is in this air…
This air is ethereal…

This air is eternal…

This air is yours Oh Earth…

Tell me whether it is real…

Tell me even if it’s carnal…

Tell me even if in dearth…

Drop at me like autumn rain…

Drop at me that heavy news…

Drop at me how Environment is climbing for the noose…

Sweep away my worldly pain…

Sweep away my subtle cruise…

Sweep away all worldly men, who dareth you to loose…

Pedal of Century


It was half past eleven, then a quarter to twelve,
Then creeped the clock stealthily for a gong beat.

We sit, somewhere lay we, in deep thoughts we delve,

Mind like some clocks did serenade and tweet.

Our stupor, if not turned to a slate’s screen

Is rather enthralled by the darkened bright skies

Or maybe traversed to some grasslands lush green

Calmed, but not really, we shut down our eyes.

Anxious lay some, restless are others, few left baby-like,

Heartless some, broken are others, few lay cold and alone.

What they all really need is to take that darn, lovely bike

And pedal way deep into abysmal abyss with no phone!

​The sweet essence of moment…


This one is for the depressed souls, those who spend their nights in sorrow and absolute stupor of their situation. The psychological wave is used first to conform and accept the situation and then to show an alternate beauty of the nature, which keeps our side through thick and through thin.

If there’s a difficulty in understanding the poem straight away, read odd lines and get the vision of nature, while if you’ll read the even ones- you’ll get the condition of the person in depression.


Sandwich’d layers top down skies…

One’s fed up with their hissing lies…

Ascend the staircase to stargaze…

Burn one’s eyes on that face…

Boiling, mighty Earth’s insides…

Fuming are one’s darkened eyes…

Brush’d the breeze through the green…

Burnt down- memories one’s seen…

Deadly pitch plack crouching fear…

Doomly thoughts one does wear…

Pounc’d & snapp’d lope’s pain…

Lies one crampled ball of vain…

Smooth melodious crackling bark…

Clenched lies one’s hair stark dark…

Fat burstin’ cheeks, holed in rodent…

One’s cheek- crimson pressed in dent…

Sweet smelling joyous dancing grass…

Veined out, one fails to cry out brass…

Sniff’d the air that sworn predator…

Beating, tearing up- this darn obliterator…

Swift & cautious pawed by lost soul…

Cramped, stiff, yet sobbing whole…

Hoot missed  that disappearing tail…

Still, lies one doubting one’s tale…

Turn’d the Earth, stifled beauty- Utopia…

Thoughts railed with chaotic Dystopia…

Calm’d are the starnights, calm’d the moonsight…

Calm’d now lies one mindless, child of the light…