When The Time On My Mobile Phone Wouldn’t Change

Last night I had a horrid dream. Bone shaking me to my core, I have never had such a sweaty nightmare ever before. I dream very less (if I do, I don’t remember most of them). Last night’s -mare ingrained in my memory very starkly. Details need too much background information about my family members. […]

A Blogpost Turned Poem, by Khawaja Musadiq

A week ago, I wrote When Family Becomes A Distant Memory. Khawaja Musadiq, a wonderful wonderful poet turned it into a poem, thousand times more beautiful. Although he doesn’t know the context and details I wrote the blog post in, nonetheless he wrote so beautifully. surviving on a bleak glimmer of h o p e , […]

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”, a poem

For Simran Narwani I was looking for a friend, when you tapped my shoulder from the back and I was confused how to respond back to a recognition from a person that was not mutual. Last time this happened I was in a hall trying to remember something about microprocessors so that I could at […]

The Real Iron Man

THE REAL IRON MAN

He has an iron hand,
full of wait of coal
burnt almost like a cave man
lifting the weight of a person’s dirt
and pressing it over to its core
so the next time an ironed
shirt is worn, it smells of sun
charged like solar flares, flat
creases transfigured into sweaty
white vest, coal vanished now,
the iron hand tired but awaiting
a new day of the weights of its world

Sands of Time

A poet’s letters to his muse
found 99 years after his death
She, the stories behind the scenes
that he covered up in the lifelong
attempt, to give into writing.
I know he didn’t have an option.
I just wish the unaddressed letters
that I write and have written to people
reach them before any of us dies.

After recently discovered Ernest Hemingway’s Unsent letters to her unrequited love.