We Are What We Are (A hitRECord Collaboration)

Hi All,

It’s been a long time since I posted anything. Things have bee crazy, but I think I’ll be updating the blog more often now. In the meantime I stumbled accross hitRECord.org, and I have been addicted! It is a brilliant  collaboration platform for artists. Do check it out.

Since the inception of this blog, I had always wanted to fuse poetry with different art forms, but lacked the essential skills to do that. But now I can, thatnks to the community of incredible artists all over the world.

So, here’s my second collaboration( or REmix, as they are called) on hitRECord,



The rainbow melted
before my eyes
and trickled down the sky
in drops of heaven
as I stood with a
cup in my hand
watching it
fill to the brim
one colour at a time.
I take a sip, and
my insides vaporize
leaving behind
wisps of smoke
that fight
to escape
like daylight,
into the night
where it settles
on the unborn flowers
that bloom into life.

Judge The Book By Its Cover Contest – Enchanted Verses

Wisdom tells us not judge a book by its cover. But we are the new age generation that has always questioned conventional wisdom!

Judge our poetry anthology by looking at the cover page and its poem.

Earn money and fame for your smart witty comments.

Only 3 rules! So listen carefully.

1. Use #JBCcontest #enchantedverses while commenting on this post or if sending by email “Enchanted Verses: JBC contest” in email subject.
2. Share/re-blog this post on your fb wall/blog or if sending by email send with poster as attachment to rhyming.coders@gmail.com and copy 3 or more friends.
3. Go creative but within 140 characters.

You can also post your comments here : Facebook

Spread the Word!! Cheers!



Painting By: Umberto Boccioni

Speeding serpent of metal
Slither past lush green meadows
as a thousand stories speak
through the thick glass windows
Mountains deep in slumber
like dragons in the distance
Chimneys breathing smoke
Like volcanoes threatening eruption
Rickshaws and overcrowded buses,
Motor cycles at railway crosses
pause, as the serpent moves past
Power grids and deserted houses
Cattle grazing nonchalantly
underneath the setting sun
Little children on porches
Waving goodbyes at strangers
An explosion of violet and yellow
Over the ageing fences add life
To the portrait of a landscape
Bathed in evening light
Graveyards and shrines stand
Neglected under the stars
as the darkness slowly puts an end
to the stories that spoke through the glass

The Girl By The Window


Photo Source: http://susannahfox.com/2013/02/19/a-mirror-and-a-window/

The girl by the window she sits,
draped in thoughts unknown to this world
Eyes in black, beautiful and tired,
She waits for sleep to carry her home

A scarf in maroon sits proud,
Around her neck, flowing down like a fall
Stripes of white on cotton blue,
Sheath her body slim and slender, so well

Arms folded, lips pouted slightly
She looks blankly at the scenery outside
Free flowing in a blur of colors,
Reflecting the expressions on her face

The screen on her lap it blinks,
Plugged in, charged up and screaming
She steals her moment away and dives,
into the banality of life’s beckoning

The train, with time, keeps rolling,
As I try to capture the picture in poetry
The girl by the window sits lost in thoughts
As my words help me narrate her story


Something I wrote about the girl who sat opposite me on the train, while on my weekend trip to Mysore, India.

Raindrops From The Sky


Photo Source: http://www.listofimages.com/leaf-in-the-rain-nature.html

“How do you feel?” They ask.

“Like raindrops from the sky”, I reply.

Escape like the wind to a distant world where no one finds you but your own soul. A world where the humble trees reflect the serenity of a meditating monk and the nimble stream echoes the vivacity of a newborn.A place where an open mind and closed eyes help you see yourself as nature had meant it to be -stripped off of everything except your humanity. Discover yourself at the end of the road and embrace what you find, only then you shall be like the raindrops from the sky.

How I Could Write Poetry ?


Photo Source: http://www.aacc.edu/creativewriting/default.cfm

I could write poetry because,
I was just a child in the skin of a man
who struggled to find his place in this world
I had tried to fit in, I really tried,
but the bullies got the best of me in this place

I could write poetry because,
I had found a friend in nature,
when there were none other to sit beside
I had learnt every lesson it had to offer
in the time I had and all the time I could borrow

I could write poetry because,
I had seen empty pages abandoned
and I could not bear the sight of their sorrow
I had tried to fill them up with words
and hoped that would make them feel better

I could write poetry because,
I had seen Life through my eyes,
and through the eyes of a thousand others
I had listened to each with all my heart,
and felt the pain behind every unsaid word

I could write poetry because,
I had accepted the state of my loneliness,
and made peace with all of my insecurities
I had learnt to close my eyes when in doubt
and escape  to a world of infinite possibilities



Photo Source: http://nature.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/791737/

The Sun had gone down and the evening looked tired. The fields that passed in a blur, covered in dust-colored drapes, stared expectantly at the sky, and the sky looked back, empathetic, but helpless.

The sky had nothing left to offer except hollow promises and a sense of guilt, that reflected in its attempt to escape behind the veil of parched clouds. It wanted to do more, be more; be what it had once promised to be, the savior  the angel, the protector. But it had failed, and now it was left with no choice, but to face its own betrayal, everyday, for eternity.

The curse, of  broken promise.

Defeated, the sky, closed its eyes, turned its back and walked away as the night walked in to take over the shift.