Dress me in wildflowers 

Down the aisle 

Of lush green grasses will I walk

With a bouquet of lovely flowers 

And I’ll have stars as my bride’s maids

On my bridal day

My friends, 

Dress me in wild flowers.

Clad in the whitest of pearls

From the deepest of oceans,

with nightingales singing from above the towers

And with moon casting an etheral glow on my face, 

On my bridal day 

My friends 

Dress me in wildflowers. 

With my groom waiting 

To hold my hand

Radiating youth and masculine power, 

And with animals and birds as my kinsmen 

On my bridal day

My friends,

Dress me in wildflowers. 


First drop of crimson

First drop of crimson

Oozing out of my veins

Staining the tiled floor

Tracing path on my skin

The essence of life

Gradually flowing….. seeping

At first a few bubbles 

Then a gush of blood from within

It feels so light 

To be free from myself….

To be free from him

No more truths

No more lies

Just my death 

And the freedom from my sins….

The night of realizations

Lying wide awake in the middle of night, she realized something. She realized how hard it was going to say a final goodbye. She realized how hard it was going to be for her to bade him a farewell. She realized how badly was she going to miss the snores of the man on the other end of the call.Oh how had she made fun of him and his snoring! And tonight she realized she was going to miss it. She was going to miss the most annoying habits of his. She was going to miss how she had to continuously bug him to close the toilet door. She was going to miss how he made fun of her for sleeping like deads. She realized how painful it was going to be for her, once he left the town and how haunting would those streets, river banks and those grounds would turn into when there won’t be his big fingers for her to hold. She wondered…. what emotion would hit her first when she would treck down the lane of past memories : happiness that she got to know him or sorrow that she now wouldn’t be able to know everything that she wanted to know about him? How would she handle everything?  How would she handle her own overflowing emotions?  How would she handle the nights when cold nostalgia would hit her and remind her of their bittersweet memories…. of them laughing, fighting, kissing, roaming aimlessly and at the end of the day falling asleep together, though on different beds but like always, connected through a phone call. It was that night that she realized that it was going to be hard… like really hard. But it was also the same night when she realized: how deeply, madly and irrevocably was she in love with him. 

It was the night of realization of love.

Poetry: a mix of emotions and inspiration 

I recently came across a very beautiful and interesting form of poetry. A form of poetry that uses the Rictameter verse. A verse which contains 9 lines with 2 words in the 1st line, 4 words in the 2nd line, 6 words in the 3rd line and so on following the pattern of 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 with the first and the last sentence usually being the same. This form was not only new to me but also very challenging. And so, my pen and my imagination did not let me rest until I came up with these two poems that I wrote in the middle of the night today. So here it is…. my first attempt in the Rictameter verse.I hope its readable.

I tried…

I know. To read

Between the lines. To hold onto

The fragments of our forgotten dreams. To keep

Close to my broken heart, the remains of what was

Left Of our memories. But today I have 

No regrets, no grudges, no nothings.

Because I know that

I tried.

We melt.

Together into each other.

When bodies touch and souls unite,

Between the sheets of love and fiery passion,

When in the glow of dawn, our whole existence ignites, 

When all we know of is sweet redemption 

When every other feeling of the world

Subsides. Entwined together 

We melt.

The death of magic

It was like to watch someone die. Imagine the death of someone who is very close to your heart. Someone who you know that no matter what, is soon going to leave this mortal realm forever. Someone for whom you wish you could’ve died instead. And yet, there is absolutely nothing that can be done. Nothing except to just helplessly wait and watch his life seeping out of his body, little by little, day by day, with each passing heartbeat. And all you are left to do is to hold that fragile, silvery string of hope that makes you believe that any moment now, a miracle would happen and your that ‘someone’ would just get up and kiss you on your forehead and you’d get to see him live happily and turn into an old man of a hundred and twenty.

    For her, it was the same feeling. It was like to watch someone die. To watch that someone die, whom she loved above everyone else, whom she loved above herself…. and that was saying something.

    But this wasn’t the death of a friend, or a family member or a pet. Or for that matter, it wasn’t technically a death at all! Because there were no living souls involved, no doctors or nurses at duty, or no machines noting the pulse rate or the body temperature.

    It was the death of a feeling.

The death of a special bond that tied two people stronger than metal chains ever can . And she had only one option: to watch it die. To watch it evaporate into thin air as if it never existed. And the thing is…. that she knew that she had it coming. She knew it right since the beginning. Because, a long time ago, she was the one to hold that silvery string of hope for him and blow in the magic dust of life and feelings once again into his almost dead heart. But she knew that this would eventually happen. But it took a lot of time to happen and that led her to an illusion that maybe, just maybe this situation would never arrive. She was led to believe that her glittery ray of hope was more than enough to ignite his dormant soul and to brighten that dark corner of his heart that was once engulfing his whole identity. But little did she know, that the ‘dark corner’ wasn’t merely dark, but it was a black hole in itself. A black hole that was feeding off his energy and now, was on a mission to erase every single drop of her magic dust that was somehow trying to cling onto the deep corners of his heart. But this time, she did not know what to do. This time, even she could feel a strange ache, a very consuming hollowness and an ‘identical to his’ black hole forming someone in her own chest and she knew that now, her love was going to die… leaving her as a casuality in it’s wake. And this time, even she could’nt do anything because this time, it was her who needed someone to hold that silver string for her but there was absolutely no one to do that. And she knew that now, even she was going to die along with the death of that lovely bond, along with the death of their cherished memories, along with the death of their love. Beacause……

This was the death of magic…..