Today I wanted to writeNothing stops me… I knowIt was just a day like any other dayBut today I wanted to write. So many days go byand we never write about itWill writing about somethingmake you remember it better ? Why should we remember ?What is the point in remembering ?remembering something that you cannot get againlost is lost is lost is lost…. is lost…. We … Continue reading 13/365 I wanted to Write – Poetry
There is never a single daywrapped in memoriesthat can go astray into the unknowns There is never such a day like yesterdaywhere tomorrows look back and saydon’t bother, you are damned anyways There is never a todaywhere you know exactly how it will goand yet you bring a fake surprise on a tired face There is never a tomorrowwhere yesterday detaches itselfas today silently loses … Continue reading 12/365 Never these days | Poetry
And I figured there was more timeto think about everything I ignoredto think how life would have beenif I had acknowledged all of it.. There are no guidelines to life.Well, there are things people saywhat worked for them and what did notbut we are different..unique…no one has written guidelines for our lifenot mine… not yours… Let us give ourselves some opportunitiesto fail and learn at … Continue reading 11/365 A Second Shot | Poetry
In some mysterious worldI belonged to you..You had bought me from a pawn shopI was red in colorAnd you painted me blue When the leaf decidedit is not part of the branch it belonged to the windIt was free… And today I can tell youthat life is more than what I saidit is.. It has a spice in it that we can savor the rest of life…Something … Continue reading 10/365 Life Unlocked | Poetry
There is nothing more preciousthan knowing we are wrongin the comfort of friends… To know we were wrongis like rebirth……like being shown,what is truly behind the mirror like there is more to lifethan what we can see…like the key to open the possibilitiesis nothing but humility….. like a ropeless swingit does not need to limit itselfeven gravity does not matter With that safety to be … Continue reading 9/365 Just to make sure | Poetry
I don’t think it is enoughIt is never enough to say goodbyeI have seen the stones turn redIn a moonlight blessed with some mysterious martian bliss. No it is not enough…Goodbyes are never enoughThey are always too soon…Way too soon and we are left wonderingWhy did they leave….Why did they leave so soon ! In misery and in sorrow I have seen it comeIt slowly … Continue reading 8/365 It is never enough | Poetry
The years seem lost,and time stands next to us.As we look into the past,time will look into our eyes.Probably trying to find out,what is bothering us. Time is not just in the past,it is also in the future.The time that is yet to come,not the time what we think is lost. And yet, we labor on the futile,irrecoverable,the years that are lost. Time can sense … Continue reading 7/365 | We are Time – Poetry
There is no right time to write a poemit is 11pm where I liveI have had some irish wiskeyI just watched a moviea movie about women powerit is international women’s day tomorrowthen I listened to some old hindi songsI watched bollywood yesteryearsI felt sadthat Guru Dutt died so young..He was 39 I am in my bed..They say don’t use phonebefore you sleepbut I got to … Continue reading 6/365 – No right Time
I am a lost person but I am not forgottennot yet…not by me at least to be forgotten is also a blissunknown to everyone you ever knewyou float and no one asks whyeveryone floats in their own way some struggle more to stay afloat to let the flow take its course..life is always fair the one who drowns and the one who does not all die finallythat is … Continue reading 5/365 The Lost one | Poetry
A word swims to the other endin an ocean of thoughts.. words can also drown in thoughts But, yes, there are expectationshow much can a word carrythe burden on these little words the writer thinks it is a word’s faultand the word also thinks…. it is its fault And the writer gets all the creditfor all the pain of a stuffed up wordhow much they … Continue reading 4/365 Writers mean harm | Poetry
Vinod Narayan 