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Tuning a Day

A writing job, but particularly I identify it as career, leaves me ample opportunity for lazy mornings, stuffed up kitchen sink, just organized and marbled floors with a swipe. 

The muse, however, inspires me. Today morning, I thought to throw a fit but just not my nature. My work does not involves unique characters. I in general identify with a concept. For my own sake, I draw examples to validate them. These are then, not mental musings but poetry. 

What is it that could impel me to think about the life in terms of it? Should I be opening a sequence of a story telling a mystery or plot every day?

But then I am living alone, being unmarried. There are few days when I do not think of my parents, nieces, nephew,  and sisters in terms of mutual communication. Strange having no desperate commitments to go outdoors, events deadline (except online submissions), and chance of someone visiting me at home, the occupying terms became strangely visible. 

We do not ask ourselves awkward questions like what if you meet an alien when you go out. To refute at this point was unnecessary however. So as I completed the morning chores, the autumn sunshine came up at an angle on the wall opposite to me. Prepared myself for work and filled the details in my head. I gently reminded myself that a new series have started on Epic Channel which I would not like to miss. I checked the schedule online and noted it down. Perhaps, another week and another episode missed would have given me this chance. 

Beautiful things happen, per chance but everyday joy is discovered in the company of light, of positivism. 

A pure symphony there it becomes, no more arguments for another moment are left, a pure joy. A life like this, simply I am living.


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Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.

A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more


only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine