Of arrogant poets

I can totally related to this!


I refuse

A like for a like,

And to follow

Because I am followed.

It’s not that if you don’t love, I die,

It isn’t the little heart you click,

That keeps me alive.

Don’t take me wrong

I am just not giving in

To this blind regime

Who, calling themselves social,

Creep in

Unsuspecting lives.

Adjudged by snobs like me

Who refuse

To being obligatory

Or comment to crush,

A soul with a word.

But, please also consider

How insignificant my words would be

If they were to praise every being

For lesser things

Just because they loved me.

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After a long time, this is what I came up with.

Numerous years ago, the two of you met,

And decided on a single journey.

Who would’ve known that parents such great,

Were what God had planned for me!


You earned and fed; I learnt and read,

Comforting me at times of fright.

You bathed me and made my bed,

Tolerating my shrill cry at night.


From a kid to a boy, I turned,

And now I’ve become a man.

Slowly but definitely I’ve learnt,

That you are my two hands.


Time and again, I was confronted,

By problems, worries, and mistakes.

My cheeks hollowed when I was haunted,

I shivered, starting from my trembling legs.


Every single time, you were there to hold me,

By my shoulders and teach me how to fight.

You told me to face my fears boldly,

And always do things that are right.


It seems that the door is locked,

And guarded by thousands of raven.

But I fear them not, for I have,

My parents – my keys to heaven.


-Inscribed By,




This is the fifteenth of sixteen poems that I wrote everyday (for sixteen days) for someone special.

Look at the beautiful world,

Not just at the cruelty in it.

Open up your heart to the good,

And let the light of love be lit.


Wipe off those tears O’ teary eyes,

Wear a smile on those lovely lips.

Stretch your lovely little body,

And move in circles, your harmonic hips.


Enjoy life – you get it once,

Get up, walk around, and dance.

Once wasted, it never returns,

So never miss the chance of a romance.


Look at the flowers – how they bloom,

On the arrival of the colorful spring.

Let bygones be bygones – forget the past,

Dwell in the present, for joy it will bring.


Open up your heart to love,

Open up your heart to joy.

Life gives everyone a chance,

Open up your heart to this boy.



  • Inscribed By,



Intrudesite – Directed Intimacy

This collection of stanzas separated by “Stops and Cuts” is one of the best pieces of unsaid statements.

Make -up artist ( A man ) Holding my chin Defining my jaws Stroking my neck Powdering my neck line Stop Cut A dressmaker ( A man ) Measuring tape Encircling my bust , my hips To outline my figure Final stitches of the dress Sewed on my body Stop Cut Look at the angle […]

via DIRECTED INTIMACY — intrudesite

Traveling the world – Shivya’s Journal

To me, it is intriguing how one can travel all around with so much passion. Read her account on quitting her high-salaried job and traveling the world alone.

On solo travel, keeping a blog as a nomad, and finding inspiration in everyday encounters.

via How to Blog Your Way around the World: A Conversation with Shivya Nath — Discover

Blogging Poll

This is a poll that I’ve created to know if and how blogging has benefited you in any sense.



Styles of Writing! (Re-blogged)

A writer’s style is a reflection of his or her personality, unique voice, and way of approaching the audience and readers. However, every piece writers write is for a specific purpose—for example, writers may want to explain how something works or persuade people to agree with their point of view. While there are as many […]

via Four Different Types of Writing Styles: Expository, Descriptive, Persuasive, and Narrative. — A NOT SO JADED LIFE