Unknown, unseen, unsolved


Unknown remains my identity

Unseen remains my passion

Unspoken remains my words

Unsolved remains my equation…


Always “made” my heart leap

When a new “doll” you got

Never did I cease to learn

When a new irrelevant lesson you taught…


Still involuntary, you knotted me

Into your beastly wrongs and rights

Still you enforced trapping me

Into your unearthly world of frights…


I still never looked right

Into your eyes, as you told

I was irrelevant when young

I remained the same when I got old…


Never did my eyes learned glow

When it saw the rain

Never did my words unrestricted flow

When it did severely pain…


I never asked a question. Never

Spoke against your will

Never lived “my” life here

Nonetheless cherished your still…


I never knew what it was that pained

I never got what you did gain

Out of these enormous extraneous feats

But I was wrong for all wrongs, I admit…


I never knew, I never needed to

I was eternally told

Rules are rules, “feminine” and strong

Prolonged and old…


I kept my head down

My voice discreet

My face someone’s personnel

My dreams, not for me…



Unknown remained my identity

Unseen remained my passion

Unspoken remained my words

Unsolved remained my equation…


And all it happened for the reason that

(As I was recapped, night and day)

I got infected via “feminity” before birth

In which sadly, I had no say…


[Note : Feminity is a virus that tells you “you are disgusting, rubbish, inauspicious etc.”]



Thanks for being a part of my paradox! 






















Old, shattered, tattered

Are the remains of my quest

Blinking, shrinking, dropping

My eyes like the rest…


Pale, sulky, tender

My moods in a nest,

Unknown, unspoken, unaddressed

Still remains my quest…


Falling, preaching, still growing

My soul unlike the rest

Cornered, stinging, growling

Still paining is my quest…


Never forgot it, but never perceived

In the crowd of the mist

Time slips, but still it stands

Undone, unleashed, at its best…

Forgotten, in a way is my quest…






We often live a happy, cheerful, fruitful life…growing and learning what each moment has to offer, but still, we forget to do, or as we say, “lack in time” for what we were made and were meant… our own quest, what so ever it may be…

We may be surrounded by thousands of fruitful tasks and  be well distant, but does it not sting somewhere…somewhere, that we left it?


Do we need to find a room for it, or leave it in the best form ever…fresh and never touched?






If just…











If just life flew like water

Hearts would not burn as fire,

If just love over-rode lust

We would live, not just desire….




If just time passed like wind

The wounds won’t sting each time and pain,

If just understanding rode over egos,

Eyes would bubble instead of rain…




If just thoughts escaped like sand

Little moments won’t be called days,

If just feelings could speak aloud

Words won’t get wasted in endless ways…


If just…









Thanks for being with me and being a part of my paradox.




Vents of my life











Sometimes, I realize,


How much I have wasted,

How many tears I have shed,

How many nights I have cried,

How many feelings were bribed,

How many moments I have wasted,

For those uncaring souls

Who never ever mattered

Or needed to…



Sometimes I realize,


How much it did pain,

How useless was the gain,

How endless it did rain

How much I tried to be sane,

When life could have been crazy,

But I didn’t let it be free

For those things that never much mattered

But needed to…


Sometimes I realize,


How many vents I left unfilled…

How many depths I felt on a hill

How many smiles I forgot to smile

How I ran endlessly on the mile

When I could have rested

Let others be tested

For those whom I never mattered

But needed to…



Sometimes I do

Sometimes I need to….




© 2012




Thanks for being with me in my journey through this paradox!

Love you all!


Remain entangled,

Enjoy our paradox!







Myself, I lack

Happiness is not the only thing I lack

I carry a heavy weight, a sack

On my shoulders? No,

On my heart a bit, back

On my soul too

Some debt left due.

No, I don’t cry




No tears in my droughty eyes

No smile on the dark, low

Lips. They are never in bow…

Not only fear I lack

But a hand, that once was on my back.




My eyes are empty

Just like a deserted island

A ship left stagnant

In a similar icy cold stagnant sea

I don’t just lack hope

I lack love. My choice? Nope.




Those pale stones of skin

Those endless, noiseless breath

 Those water-less, emotionless eyes

 Those wild feelings left in dread.

 They just remind me,

How much more I lack…




 How much they made me lack…

 I still behave, as I hadn’t had a choice…

 I lack, even more than I do lack

I lack a pulse, I lack a voice

In my world, black and white

I don’t even own myself…my breath, my sight.




 Want to know what I lack?

Its myself I lack…




The picture made my heart stir and restless.

Out of that restlessness, this piece of poetry or prose, what ever you call it, came out. Just the very words my heart described the painting with.  All inspired by the picture, so the credit goes to it!

I just wish, I interpreted it right.

Hats off to the artist, who painted such a beautiful and heart-stirring master-piece on the canvas.



Why do I write?


Why do I write?

A question much like advice

Whose answer I do know and don’t

Hidden in my veins, heart and eyes.


Do I need to know why I write?


I write because I must

I can’t handle it, it’s like a lust

But more than that, let’s say

It’s my one and only true lover in sight.


This is why I write.


It’s the fountain that quinces my thirst

Gives my dying soul a re-birth

It makes me take my breath

When the world seems to end my life.


This is why I write.


It’s a vent to give out my pain

To stop my mind from being lame

To close the pores that may

Slash my heart like a knife,


This is why I write.


I write because I can,

Because it doesn’t desert me, does not ban

My feelings, my words, my thoughts

And always supports me in my plight.


This is why I write.


I write because its free

And is just like planting a tree

For changes, revolutions, notions,

To bring back the freedom out of sight.


This is why I write.


These are all explanations to the quest,

Enough to pass a test,

But there’s a secret again in my heart that:

It’s my soul’s god’s advice!


And it is not in my own hands not to write…


I cant live without it, my friend!

Can’t think of doing so with all the world’s wealth in hand

You think I m wasted? I love being so….

For it heals my burnt soul like ice.

(and tell you, it’s my life)


I can’t think to live without my life,

This is why I write.





The piece of poetry I had been longing to sculpture since ages.  It came out when I read the daily prompt at “http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/11/21/daily-prompt-last-words/?like=1&_wpnonce=53d959a0ec

ie, your last post!!! (no, this isn’t, but I want it to be the one if ever)

I wanted to tell people about myself in it, but then I thought; I always express myself in poetry or prose or any other form of writing, so why not write why I do write?



Yes, this is the reason. Because I love to write.

 And love may have thousands of reason, but then, it is reasonless too.

It’s a part of my paradox, enjoy it!


Loves to all my readers,