The Place of My Dreams

There’s a small city

On the other side of the world

With the tiniest shoreline

But the clearest skyline

And a heart of pure gold.

Hi people,

How’s this new year treating you?

How many resolutions are still a go?

For those with the travel bug, what’s one city which makes you feel more at home than home itself? I’d love to know!

Cheers and keep smiling.

As always, thank you for reading!



Featured image ©Varnika Jain


A broken nib.

A torn page,


And crumpled.

Some ink,


Some blobs


Some streaming freely,

Much like the flowing words.

Beginning in a beautiful cursive,

Transitioning to a staggering end.

Trailing off,

Much like the hand that wrote them,

As deep blue

Mingled with strains of red,

Silently screaming

The End.

The Manual

And just like that

He picked off all the layers

Of protection she’d been wearing

And brought her face to face

With all her demons

That were growling and snarling

Then standing behind her

He watched in awe

As she slayed through them all

One after the other

Knowing he’s got her back

Because that’s what you do

When you give love

You don’t save a soul

You just love them

And let them do their own saving

Emerging stronger

Maybe even strong enough

To give back a little love

And in her eyes you might then see

A hope

A dream

A life

A song

That had once been lost

Brimming again

With love.

Words’ Worth

I am scared I would run out of words one day – And the silence would be deafening. I’d look on, struck dumb, while inside me, my blood would be roaring. I’d signal, maybe, with my eyes and my hands, trying to find some coherence, while every nerve on my face will stand on end, threateningly pulsating. My mouth will open – and close – open again – and close – forgetting it’s meaning, it’s purpose, it’s function. A hollow, dank, hole. Like a mine that has collapsed unto itself.
I know you’d try to listen. To understand. And, even, to sympathise. You’d nod, in mock agreement. You’d pacify me with a smile. I’d see it. I’d see it all. And I’ll know. But I won’t be able to refute you, for I will have no voice. Without words.

Without words, I’ll watch you leave and shatter my very world. Without words, I wonder, would my world even be turning?

Hello Fam! The featured image on this post is of a makeshift artisan store in Edinburgh where I found the prettiest lanterns. There’s something about colours and light, reflected against all that’s dark, that draw me to them instantly. This beauty has been one of the takeaways from my recent trip to UK. Just sharing it on here to let you know I remember my promise of posting a travel-log and I intend to keep it. I just haven’t had the time to sort through the hundreds of pictures I took there. After which, I’d have to create posts with literary significance, like some of you suggested. Or better still, come up with poems highlighting the images. So, please bear with me.

How’s the first month of this year been for you? I’d love to hear about it in the comments section down below.

Thank you for reading.




Flowing thoughts,

Flowing words,

Flowing ink,

Flowing pen,

Flowing paper,

Will they ever be enough

To encapsulate

The flowing ebb of life?

Yet, flow it must and shall.

(Not sure if the images are that worthy, but since one of you messaged me with the suggestion, I’m just letting you know that all featured images belong to me, unless otherwise stated. Please be so kind as to credit the blog if you happen to share pictures from any of the posts on here. Thank you!)

If He Loves You

If you think he doesn’t notice

The corner of your mouth

Where your smile upturns just a tad

When you’re nurturing a naughty thought,

If you think he cannot see

Your eyes glazing over

With a flicker and a frown

As you’re caught in the grip of a bad memory,

If you feel he is oblivious

To the troubles you’re trying to hide

When you speak a little too fast

And gesture a little too often,

If you feel he cannot perceive

The hurt you have been nursing

As you’re trying to imagine a life

Straight out of a fairytale,

If you feel he wouldn’t find out,

The difference between your dreams

And a nightmare most horrifying

Even when he’s deep in his sleep,

Then, oh! My sweet darling,

You’re the one who’s running blind

For when he really loves you

You’re never out of his mind.