Preface | Hypocrisy | The Oblivion | Flight of Thoughts | My Enigma | Blazoning Triumph | Broken Heart | The Fire | Salvation

Darkness and Fight | Sands and Memories | Loneliness | Insignificance | Tsunami | Sold Out | The Protestant | Thoughts

Labyrinth & Intoxication | Shadows | Crossroads | Beside the Fire-Place | Victor & The Vanquished | Vulture and the Dying


Between the poet and the philosopher there is a green pasture. Should the philosopher choose to cross it, he becomes a preacher. Should the poet choose to cross it he becomes a prophet. (KAHLIL GIBRAN)

W hen I write, I forget about my age,

Time or space, It's only my pen which

Pours my mind on paper with different,

Colours of the rainbow of my thoughts.

Now let us play hide and seek,

Should you hide in my heart

It would not be difficult to find you.

But should you hide behind yours own shell,

Then it would be useless for anyone to seek you.

Some of us are like ink and some like paper.

And if it were not for the blackness of some of us, some of us would be dumb,

And if it were not for the whiteness of some of us, some of us would be blind.

If I were to choose between the power of writing

A poem and the ecstasy of a poem unwritten,

I would choose the ecstasy. It is better poetry.

But you would and all my neighbours would also agree that,

I always choose badly......

Once I asked myself, “no one shall know my worth until I die.”

And my heart answered saying “Yes, death is always the revealer.

And if indeed I would know my worth it is that,

I have more in my heart than upon my tongue,

And more in my desire than in my hand.”


If sorrow meant bliss, he could have been the happiest man.

Am I singular or plural?

In a perfect world neither happiness nor sorrow would exist.

But neither would a perfect world.

Is it possible to lose what you don't even have?

They say that a pen is mightier than a sword. But the question remains whether the pen or its ink is wiser?

Many people climb hills, very few mountains.

How can a winner ever be a successful loser?

In the heart of a spark his an inferno. But will I ever find it?

Sometimes best of friends make the greatest of enemies.

When life does not find a singer to sing her heart Small produces a philosopher to speak her mind.

Paradise is there, behind that door, in the next room, but I have lost the key. Perhaps I have only mislaid it.

The devil died the very day you were born. Now you do not have to go through hell to meet an angel.

Poetry is the wisdom that enchants the heart. Wisdom is poetry that sings in the mind. If we could enchant man's heart and at the same time sing in his mind; Then in truth he would live in the shadow of God.

Your mind and my heart will never agree until your mind ceases to live in numbers and my heart in the great mist.

Love is the veil between a lover and a lover.

Why unveil the veil, the enigma of which generates a maddening curiosity about what lies within?

You would be quite friendly with your enemy when you both die.

Perhaps a man may commit suicide in self – defense.

Your saying to me “I do not understand you,” is a praise beyond my worth and an insult you do not deserve.

How heedless you are when you would have men fly with yours wings and you cannot even give them a feather?

They deem me mad because I will not sell my poems for gold,

And I deem them mad for they think that my poems have price.

Mayhap a funeral among men is a wedding feast among the devils or angels!

I am the flame, and I am the dry brush. One part of me consumes the other.

When you solve all mysteries of life you long for death, for it is another mystery of life.

A pearl is a temple of pain built around a grain of sand. What longing built our bodies, and around which grain?

Only when I shut my eyes do I see a reflection of me in everything that lives. Only when I turn deaf to this would do I hear my own voice among everything that lives.

They say that the sun is the centre of our universe and we all revolve around it; and I say that I am the centre of my universe and your sun, the moon, the stars and every thing else revolves around me.

My life is three dimensional. Is death the fourth dimension?

Only one question has completely muted me all my life. Its when a man asked me “who are you?”

Only once did I play with my life and lose. I don't remember when or how. But I feel pain and sorrow, no more.

They say that there is life after death, and I say that there is no death. It is just another life after life.

When our eyes start to haze we use glass to rectify our vision. What medication is prescribed when our life starts to haze?

Talk to me not with your voice but with your mind, for I seek not your words but your thoughts.

T here was a time when I used to sleep alone. Now I sleep with you and you with me. I have re-discovered my own self.

Once I was walking past a park and in the middle of it I saw a vacant bench with people standing around it. Then I was walking past the same park and I saw them still standing around the same bench. And I wondered why they were missing the opportunity!

When I am happy, the world is happy.

When I am sad, the world is not.

Mayhap even your dreams are not your own.

My thoughts die when I cage them in words, for this cage, however golden can't give the bird its wings. And what a bird without flight?

I kept chasing the sun in persuit of light, only to end up in darkness. Ironic that only the restive find the daylight and its warmth.

Have you any clue about what's hidden in my heart?

Murder me but let the weapon be of love.

Is it not the greatest of ironies that we follow one heart only when our mind approves of it?

I break the promise every time I say that I shall yield only when I am taken.

What an irony of fate that some of the richest and most powerful people of our time are on sale.



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