image courtesy : Google


When those gentle pairs of fingers

Touched my dampened soul

A shriek for life grew within my corpse

My mass, tattered and cold…


She held my finger and didn’t let go off

Cuddling like a bloom

Her eyes opened and met my old gaze

Pampering my unpromising room…


The shabby room then lit like a fortress of destiny

My princess gleamed like a gem

Her shimmering eyes with silky shrilly hairs girdled

Like the sun veiled with a cloudy frame…


courtesy: google

 courtesy : Google


Her hands waved in the air around

In some type of magical glamour

Entangling with the wires of my dome

Leaving me to mere blubber…


Her cheerful giggles and outraged cries

Infecting the melancholic existence of mine

Setting the birds of nostalgia gratis

Made me something of a shine…


Her crystal brown dreamy eyes

Her sparkling adorable laughter like wine

Made my life infected with love

Unconditional, noble and purely divine.





Snehal Sahay






This post is written under the Trifecta Writing challenge



Enjoy the paradox!










The utter reality of my wrinkles





The wrinkles on my skin

Don’t show how weak I am

Nor how experienced I be

Nor the long race I ran

In the quest of being free…




Those patches on my skin

Don’t show how failed I am

Nor how insufficient I be

Nor the pains I took

In the quest to love thee…



Those foul make-ups marks on my disguise

Don’t show how insecure I am

Nor how ashamed I am

Nor how depressed I be

Of my toil for getting renewed, my identity




They don’t show any thing you think

Nor any thing you guess

Or figure or hear

Or place me into thee

But the glory of god, They just remind me…



How he reminds us of

Everything we do, we did

The power I once thought was mine

The wits on which once I did dine

The glamour, which once made the proud me…

These patches, wrinkles, all…just tell me, my real reality….


My utter reality…






The utter reality of ageing. Isn’t this what the almighty reminds us?

The reality of our proud “I”? The reality, which we tend to forget when we should remember it the most?








I wish I were

My hand at the weekly writing challenge….


While the lonely cloud of cotton flew,

Above my head, beneath the blue.

It swayed a little, and pulled a smile,

I looked at it, away a thousand miles.


It twisted and turned, or did I do?

I looked at it, onto the blue.

I tried to laugh, but then was shocked…

A chariot flew, thousands of clouds just locked…


I looked at it, in perfect amaze,

And woo! A unicorn near it did graze!

But did not move, as longing though

and waiting, for me to follow.


Just that moment, I wished I were,

A small, tangible, golden bird.

And just could fly, up to the height

Where the chariot rested for me to ride…


I lifted my hands, and tried to touch

But my hands could not get through much…

The chariot nearly turned to pink,

And beneath the horizon, began to sink.


Just that moment, I wished I were,

A warrior, who could fight all fears…

And just could hold the chariot and

Pull it back to the sky and then land…


But then I remembered, where I was

Got caught writing poetry in my science class!!!

And just that moment, I wished I really were,

Instead of  the clouds, on my own little “native” earth…


Hey everyone! Thanks for supporting me so much since day one. Have crossed 50 likes and wish to cross a century in the go… thanks to all.

And yes, I love the clouds! 😀  You would have already guessed that since I started blogging..and this one is for the weekly writing challenge. I could have written so many things which could be a bit  mature and made a bit of sense, but dont know why I always choose nonsense! 😀

Love to all and keep visiting!