Ugly, Unspoken, Unsaid


Coffee Cup

As I stir the simmering brews
creating cafe white swirls
that flow with my thoughts
like ribbons in hands of a dancer,
a sweet aroma arises –
a teaser of taste
of coffee beans, of buttery cream.
I like this blend of bitter and sugar
a delicate act of balance –
a melody for all moods.
I’ll call it a cup of warmth.

Lessons I have learnt recently…. (part 2)

Decisions when made are neither right nor wrong.

When you make a choice for yourself: you place the right intentions, you listen to your intuition, you depend on whatever you think you know, and you hope for the best.

It is only in retrospect that you see how ‘correct’ that decision was and whether it all played out as you had wished or not, and even that understanding is transient.

Some seemingly good decisions could turn out to be foolish but then on the bright side, decisions that seem like mistakes may unravel to be a stroke of serendipity.

All we know is that these are chances we take and fortunately, we can always take new ones.

We count blessings, but not ours.

If we were to make a list of all things to be grateful for, we’ll find it easier to fill the spots in others’.

Maybe because we know too much about our lives and too little of theirs.

In skewed comparisons, we lose our gratitude for we are busy counting their blessings while overlooking ours, and then we’ll say life’s unfair.

You’ll have to find yourself, time and again.

You are complex and dynamic, you are undone and unbounded.

Who you are will never be fully known to you, and that very limited truth of yours that you know today would change tomorrow. Finding oneself is not a onetime task. It’s a lifelong process, and you’ll have to find yourself time and again. It would be both daunting and exciting, but more importantly it would always be meaningful.

Poetry Belongs To None.

I love how poetry belongs to none.

I write my story & yet you have lived it more.
I recite my pain & yet you bear the scar.
I weave a message & yet you read your own.
We each share what’s more than ours,

For no poetry belongs to one.

-Kamakshi Verma

Continue reading “Poetry Belongs To None.”


to the wind that sings of change
to the promise of rebirth
to the courage of letting things go.
Fall in love, with the minutae & imperfect
with the little control over little things
with the uncertainty of everything, but change.
Fall like the leaves, free and forgiven.
Fall, with the wind that brings change.

– Kamakshi Verma

To me, this season is for transformation. To allow what doesn’t serve you, to slip away. To make space for something more meaningful. What does it mean to you


I looked around
in books, in people, in places and moments
to find among them the beacon of peace

I searched, I sought, I pursued
whatever offered even a hint of tranquility

But never did it last,
at best it brushed me fleetingly

For I looked around
In hope to redeem what I had lost
to my own hollow ~

my peace that never made home in me.

– Kamakshi Verma.

Image courtesy:


Some pictures are weathered, not literally but metaphorically. They carry a borrowed hint of familiarity, a scent of another day, the essence of a distant emotion.
Perhaps, photographs aren’t only a glimpse of the moment captured and they certainly can teleport you to times beyond their timestamp.

This one for instance carries with it the feeling of monsoon for me. Maybe it’s the tone, the green, the disposition, or maybe it’s just me who sees what she wishes to.
It reminds me of how the day feels after the rain has fallen, how the sky wears a different colour, and how the wind is either heavy or eased by the downpour.

Beyond these, it changes something in you too.
A monsoon shower can be cathartic and liberating – a pleasant encounter that offers respite. Or it can fall on you with the force of melancholy, leaving you drentched and sometimes even drowing.

As for this photograph the jury is still out and all I know is that it feels like monsoon to me.

Everything, in time

When nothing seems to follow your clock, when time is either too slow, or eager to slip by, remember ~

All things have seasons and seasons are nature’s clockwork. They are never late, never early.

All our dreams, our hopes, our plans and promises are too majestic to stick to a ‘schedule’. Allow them to take their course, for magnificence can’t be restricted to a timeline.

Patience is virtue and virtues are hard to obtain, but what good things come easy in life ?
It is the choices we make in the most trying times, that make all the difference. Choose patience time and again, for only patience can help you make peace with time.

You can’t reign time, you can’t dictate destiny. Somethings would always be out of your control and that’s ok, for there is more to your power. Hold on to your will and trust the journey, you’ll find that things have their own way of working out.

You don’t have to measure upto and fit into someone else’s idea of ‘right thing at the right time.’ You are where you are supposed to be and you will get where you want to.

If at all things follow a plan, it’s not yours and certainly not theirs. They’ll happen, as and when they are meant to, they’ll happen just in time.

Kamakshi Verma


Spring on her mind…

Unwind with the whiff of soft scents that still linger in protest, to reimpose the florecense of innocence.
Unfurl in the sweet aftertaste of its last arrival, for it may remind you of just how little it took for you to smile.

Take your time and look. Look around and then beyond. For what lies around, let your senses lead. To what lies beyond let your heart speak.
Let them both unclothe years from your age, for underneath all that time is where you’ll find happiness in a floral silhouette.

That effervescence of hers remains untouched, by both the seasons and reasons of life. And as for the smile, it blooms from the Spring on her mind.