Posted in Poetry


Black hard rock,

Ugly, yet symbolic.


Born out of the pressure,

Constantly pushed down.


Why, when it may as well have glittered,

When it could just be precious,

When it could have been desired by all,

Did it turn to black rock?


Akin to impressionable minds,

That can be carved into differing personalities.

A push in the right direction,

And behold, a diamond.


And yet, a whisper here,

A dark thought there,

A glimpse of a vice,

And what are you left with?


Charred coal.

A shadow of the person that one could have been.

A disappointment,

A failure perhaps?


Why, you say,

Does it even matter?

Must we not all end up as ashes?

Thrown into sacred waters,

Or saved in a precious urn.


But oh, how it does,

For the ashes of a diamond

Are revered and remembered.

While those of coal,

Lie forgotten or despised,

Till the end of time.

Posted in Poetry

Life in Leaves

This is inspired by a Ted talk I watched recently. I feel like I should say more, but I have nothing else to say. So here goes.


The world is a library,

And those who inhabit it,

The books.


Each one of us has a story,

Who we are, where we come from,

Or maybe the way we look.


Then every conversation is a reading,

An insight into another world.


Unique in every way,

Never fitting into a single mould.


We’re all curious melanges of emotions –

Giggling, sobbing, shouting, sometimes silent.


A tale of love whispered to a friend,

A secret anecdote of when one got violent.


Or perhaps harmless gossip,

An opinion, an idea, a rant.


Maybe a quest for good advice,

Or a smile, accompanied by a compliment?


Just so long as we invest that time,

Talk to someone, build connections.


Have long heart-to-hearts,

After all, we’re unabridged versions.


Don’t rely on the chat box,

A digital emoticon fails to convey.


It is the act of sitting down over a cup of coffee,

Or hug that goes a long way.


Posted in Poetry


Chills down the spine,

Prickling at the nape of the neck,

A faint melody, a distant tune, a familiar hum –

Like brushing off the dust from old, yellowing books,

Stirring long forgotten memories.



A song reminding us of days long gone.

Lyrics making us question ourselves.

Resonating with something deep within,

Chilling to the bone.



Of confrontation, of being caught, or of simply owning up.

Clutching at our chests,

Leaving us numb and breathless,

Like a weight pressing down from all sides.



The thrill of meeting a loved one,

Or that degree marking the culmination of hard work.

When the leg inadvertently bounces out of excitement,

And the hairs raise of their own accord.



And then there’s the cold.

The harsh wind, stinging at the face.

Bringing tears to the eyes, goose pimples across bared skin.

Yet, it’s not always the cold that gives you goosebumps.



Lyrics from a song I used to love, ’cause why not:

 “I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life, am I living it right?”


Posted in Poetry


Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.

I’m not very poetic by nature. In fact, sometimes, poetry frightens me. I’ve read a fair share of poetry in my life, some of which I muse about to this day. However, on multiple occasions, I’ve read something that intrigued me; but for the life of me, I could not quite understand what was being said. Maybe I have a long way to go before I learn to comprehend the nuances of poetry, or maybe I just need to keep an open mind while reading and let my imagination flow. Either way, I think it’s a brilliant creative outlet and perhaps someday, I’ll be able to write a piece that I’m truly proud of.

I have a huge fear that maybe someone reading this won’t get the idea I’m trying to convey, partly because I decided to restrict myself at every line, as you shall see. So, the gist of what I’ve written is that at some level, we’re all probably trapped, maybe in a difficult situation or just generally in life. And that maybe, while we’re struggling and flailing about to free ourselves, we’re missing out on a lot that the world has to offer. I also acknowledge the seemingly arbitrary shift of pronoun from “they” to “we” somewhere in the middle, but I began to feel preachy so I decided to make it more self-inclusive.

I wish I could’ve been clearer in the poem itself, but I wanted to use only certain kind of words in a given line, hence the ambiguity.


Writhe, wince, whine, wail,

Tortured – ‘tis a terrible tale.

Waiting while the world went its way,

Trapped to the teeth, troubled were they.


Then tied with tassles, trembling in the tower?

Caged? Could be. Condemned to cower.

Or overtly oppressed or ostracized,

Perhaps, purposely paralyzed?


Time trickles, trips, then tosses in torrents,

Still, some seem senseless to sights, sounds, scents.

Failing to fathom life’s freedom and fullness,

Did we diminish our lives, doomed to dullness?


Cages can crack, chase your calling,

Tumble the towers, time’s a-ticking.

Soar some skies, swim some seas,

Feel fiery, fulfilled and fly free.