poetry · Uncategorized

Me and My Rhyming Self

I have been writing poetry and prose for a quite long time now, precisely 15 years . timeline

Here are some of my Works.

My Life As a Budding Engineer


The time spent during the undergraduate days are most valuable to any person. This was the time when the most crucial decisions in life are taken.I loved to dress professional.

I get up at 9.30 in the morning,
15 minutes reserved for stretching and groaning,
With just 15 minutes left for the class,
I rush to the bathroom to find my face wash.

Its lucky if I don’t have to use the loo,
Cuz I usually do it early morning at two,
With a packet of biscuits and a bottle of water,
I reach my class already late by a quarter.

I ask from the backdoor if the attendance is done,
If it’s not I hear its then a L.O.C. mission,
To get into the room and sit down quite,
Avoiding all possible angles of the teachers sight.

Some lecturers are good to check attendance at last,
But some are cruel and finish it fast,
They don’t let u in once u are late,
Neither do they pity on ur crying state.

But sometimes I reach there just on time,
And feel like being punished for an unknown crime,
With my pen in hand and a copy on table,
I write down something with hands unstable.

There is something in Urdu & a few lines in Greek,
With artistic streaks both thick and sleek,
When asked to read I couldn’t what I wrote,
I’m a champion dozer with everybody’s vote.

How funny is sleeping in class

Awesome words, it completely relates with my student life too!! ~ Aditi Jagdale

My Life as a Budding Employee.


Professional attire and a casual smile. This picture shows the amalgamation of professionalism and class.
People come, people go,

Some people stay for more,
Some do laugh, some do not,
Some of them are friends you’ve got.

Everyday I come along,
Walk with some of them I’ve known,
I sit with them and with them giggle,
Enjoy life in small nibbles.

Things can change in life and have,
The place , the group, the friends,
Things have changed on which I’d laugh,
And dress and shoes and trends.

Somethings are as the polestar is,
Some practices and some habbits,
I’ve tried so hard not to drowse,
Had my coffee did surf and browse,

My drowsy lousy lids get stuck,
Usually I have a sheer bad luck,
I was being caught and still am now,
The difference being I’m not thrown out.

There have been yawns and many sighs,
All because of sleepless nights,
Jobs haven’t been started yet,
I’m sure to doze off when it starts, I bet.

My first Job Experience has some similarities!! You’ve written a classic piece. ~Anmol Dutta

You need not words to speak


I have always loved pens and they have loved me. This is a Parker Reflex and is a wonderful writing tool. The nib is as smooth as glass and i simply love this pen. I have always loved fountain pens and have a small collection myself. The fountain pen has a great feel to it which enhances the experience of writing. With a fountain pen in my hands I am more confident of being inspired.

You sometimes don’t need words to speak,

It’s not always A touch that you feel.

You may not even Need an ear to listen ,

You quite often Need not your eyes for vision.

It was a chilly early morning In germany!!

 I was hungry as hell,

But couldn’t find food any.

Twas too early for cooks,

To start their cooking,

I knew I should have had,

Some bread or some leftover cookies!!

Not knowing the city a lot,

I still walked down the street,

Carelessly kicking some sleet with my feet..

On gazing ahead, I saw an old man,

with a couple of fallen crates,

Struggling to keep his cart straight.

I walked close to him,

Helped him pick what had fallen,

There were Some flour sieves, a metal ricer,

 I grabbed some whips and a bagel slicer.

A smile was all, we shared till then,

He bowed his head, And I nodded mine.

I helped him push his cart a bit,

 Gave him a hand to stock and fit,

All his loafs and some muffins.

It was around 10 minutes or more,

Not a word he said not a word i spoke,

 Anyways We couldn’t have spoken,

Owing to the fact that I wasn’t a german.

As a gesture of goodwill

He handed me a loaf of bread,

I guess he smelled my hunger,

I believe my face he read..

I took it happily with both my hands,

It didn’t matter at all

That we were from different lands.

I understood, What he never said,

He realized , What I never spoke.

Some languages have no written words,

 Happiness doesn’t come from what money can afford.

We both knew,

 That we both felt nice,

We both looked at each other,

And then at the sunrise.

U are You but I‘m Me!!


fuss ball pro
Management professional showing his prowess on the fuss ball table. Love to dress love to play

Should’ve would’ve could’ve didn’t,

 Couldn’t wouldn’t shouldn’t did it,

Great ,nice and worthy felt bad,

When Dire, lousy and horrid I’ve had.

My actions at times contradict intentions,

Words I speak belie my own decisions.

What am I to and what I’m to not,

I find no reason to explain to the lot!!

All folks own a view on wrong and right,

Mine just fits me really tight,

The plight of stairs I take to climb,

Are the same for some to decline.

Can’t deny that I’m an obtuse guy,

My idiocracy is my birth right,

What’s gold to you may mean me shit,

 If I own a snake I’ll have me bit.

Perception and vision can make an impression,

 Where prejudice and judgement have their own direction,

 A step back can give you a wider view,

When a step ahead may introduce you to something new.

At the end of the day, Does it really matter,

 When It’s only what you want,

 That is in your platter.

Be yourself or be no one at all,

 Care less if this way makes you fall,

At least you’ll stand tall when you’re up,

Then pour some more into your cup.

Lets Share a cup Brother, wonderful composition. MAde me rethink about a couple of things. ~Kishan Chandra

Want to see me rap?

Some of my Poetry read and like rates on Facebook



Hollie McNish’s ‘funny and serious’ poetry wins Ted Hughes prize

A “funny and serious, humane and consciousness-raising” poetry collection that reports from the “frontline of motherhood” has scooped the prestigious Ted Hughes poetry award for new work in poetry.

  • YouTuber Hollie McNish beat six other shortlisted poets to the £5,000 prize with her third collection, Nobody Told Me.
  • The collection combines poems and diary entries in a revealing memoir that follows her from when she discovered she was pregnant seven years ago, to when her daughter turned three years old.
  • The prize, which is administered by the Poetry Society, was presented by poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy at a ceremony in London on Wednesday.

Singer-songwriter Kathryn Williams, who judged the prize with poets Jo Bell and Bernard O’Donoghue, said the book “should be sold alongside Caitlin Moran and Bill Bryson. Honest and insightful, it will resonate outside the poetry world to reach a new generation of poetry readers.”


The collection covers all aspects of motherhood, challenging taboos about post-pregnancy sex and breastfeeding as well as the sense of isolation and loss many women feel after giving birth. It also celebrates the joys of having a young child. On publication, the Guardian wrote that “her poems can often sound like love letters to her daughter and each phase of babyhood”.

Read More: The secret delight of poetry

 “stigma attached to writing about things related to women in poetry”. She added: “It just shocked me how hard certain things are as soon as you become pregnant – and yet no one talks about it.”




The snow rekindles a sour thought.

Of me falling down on my butt.

Now There’s no more snow but a pleasant breeze.

Its the time of the year.

when I walk around with ease!!

No chilly winter’s wrath to fear,

Its time to enjoy a nice cold beer.

As spring unravels the flowers and more.

I see the birds sing in chorus and go.

The squirrels are out and moving fast.

Searching for food :an unending task.

While I bask lying.

On the carpet of grass.

Lost in some twisted thoughts of my past.

Thinking.. Things can change in life and have.

Things we want and things we had.

Somethings perhaps get memories back.

Some nostalgia pretty power-packed.

A fragnance can make you reminisce and miss.

And a sound can make you feel the bliss.

And I wish..

If I could turn the times..

Be the young me..

Back In my prime..

Whilst I was floating and feeling benign..

I heard a bunch of people passing by,

With their sinkers and floats, their rods and reels,

They had all the fishing tackle they’d ever need.

Its spring again, so people relax and fish..

Pause time for some moments..

And take life as is..

Its spring again, so spring out from you beds..

Put some springs in your steps,

and spring back from being dead

. Its spring again and everything’s bright,

Its serene everywhere, every sight.

The Red yellow and violet shades..

Reminds me of my country days..

It feels so nice, so gay.

Spring to me in a word is Fresh,

Whats spring to you I ask my friends..

About spring share athing or two..

What does spring mean to you!!