Monday, December 24, 2012

you don't have to

i will write you a poetry today
you don't have to listen, I don't have to sing,
you don't have to answer,i don't have to ask,
you don't have to lose, I don't have to win,
you don't have to remember, I don't have to forget,
you don't have to love,and I don't have to live.



when such a long tradition/celebration can still continue for ages with a lie of a red fat man entering through chimney and distributing gifts .

Can you not sell me one lie tonight for one life that i live?
truth aint that a friend,you know.


Tuesday, December 18, 2012

In chaos and conflicts

In chaos and conflicts,We need to be heard,
we need answers, true.
but they who can take advantage of our silence,
can take advantage of our shouts too,
you can sail as a silent boat,
or turn into a ferocious warrior,
either ways you will turn to a pawn of political parties,
so its important to be calm,
In chaos and conflicts,We need to be heard,
we need answers, true,
but for that a right way is the way to heed.

Remember when you cried?
you gave me one drop of tear that day,
i took it along with me ,
and sailed away,
till today, my boat, ship, woods everything is gone,
but the ocean stays in my mind.
stays deep in my mind.


Monday, December 17, 2012


If I could tell you how beautiful you are,
people would have never called me an artist, or a poet, or that crazy fellow who stands for hour outside your house.

Actually if people could say , there would be no singers,no music,no songs,no artists etc.


you know what,
'Food' is what mom makes,
rest are just a bulk of minerals,vitamins,carbohydrates,nutrients,leaves ,air etc that is to be eaten only to exist, not to live.

-home sweet home

Saturday, December 15, 2012


You left a pause that day,
And I still cant sleep every night.


Thursday, December 13, 2012


lost all roads and hope,
with torn pockets of love,
in the middle of the ocean
I hold a brush,
trying to paint my own sun.
but the night always remains,
always wins,
always grows.
like it always did ,
but i don't know why,
tonight seems to be
the loneliest night of all.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012


remember this place.
its where we began.
we end.
we always run away and towards.

Monday, December 10, 2012

last night

Last night, I cried like a baby
and you stayed with me.
Love makes me an artist sometimes,
as I speak through rhymes and colors,
but tonight, i have none.
I surrender.
Cause Last night, I cried like a baby
and you stayed with me.



You know ,there is this flower of the blue mountains that blooms once in every twelve years.
yet, I love it, and I wait for it.

When i cant stop loving a simple flower i held,
how can I stop loving the person to whom I gave ?
- nisha

Wrote it for someone, I never showed.
this goes for people I love(even the ones i didn't give the flower :P ). its a believe you know. things may go way wrong.may be you turn silent and never talk, yet if you loved once,even for just a second, you always do. you can lie that you don't,you can hide it with anger or silence, but you do.12 years or more, if ever that person calls you at 3 am ,you will still show up at the door.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

real artist

if every time , when I hold a brush to paint,
All I do is ,try to hold your hand,
come close and reach for you,
then who is the real artist,
me or you?

_ nisha

Wednesday, November 28, 2012


i share this silence
From the window of my room
with a distant tree,
but of all nights,
tonight is the worst,
for the tree has birds,
and am lost without friends.


Monday, October 8, 2012


today i cried
like a child before her
and she said nothing.

today i ran.
like a house on fire,
and she said nothing.

today,I lost
all love I had,
and she said nothing.

Today ,with a bleeding feet,
I said I want to walk
alone a mile,
And she whispered okay

SIlence is golden,
like the sun.
but the warmth is making
me more cold,
And I need some words today
talk to me lady
of castles,
of princesses,
of love that finds a way.
talk to me lady,
of a hour,
of a day,
of a minute that finds a way.
I know its not easy.
but sell me a lie.
I cannot sleep tonight.
I know its not easy,
but sell me to lie,
I cannot sleep tonight..

tomorrow, yes tomorrow
shall rise,.
or may be i would be gone,
but i dont want her to speak
of yesterdays,
for i know she cares,
and she should never cry,
angels should never cry.

silence is golden
like the sun,
whom and why
should i blame,
if am the one who wears
a sweater in summer,
and weeps about
winter and rain.
tonight I quote aazar
as i sleep,
there is no poetry in being alone,
tonight i think of neruda
as i turn,
I can write the saddest poem of all"

tonight, yes tonight
i will burn again,
like the same old story,
on a rupee i will leave behind
my legacy
a poem and a penny
that's all i leave
and you will hear nothing,
I will say nothing.

today i lost a friend,
the last one i Have,
and she said nothing.

today i cried ,
like a child,
before her
and she said nothing.

_ nisha .

Tuesday, July 17, 2012


there is this place. there's nothing great yet ..l. It used to have green fields and a flock of birds always used to visit. peaceful. Infact the perfect one, during nights, where everything is dark, and the airport lights shine to direct the plane, its as if the best time to express your love. the roads, the place, I get lost to be found again. Peace.i have been so many times..


this is the place, between two big fields.
not a special one,
no one stops here even for a second,
But i am here when i loose or gain myself.
Rocks,grasses and an empty road.

Its getting dark now,
look at the left,beyond the fields,
there is a play of lights,
basically its an airport, and the roads guide the plane landing,
but can you pretend that I decorated the roads,just to make this night
oddly special? While I confess.

This broken place,with stones, grasses and big
fields ant special like flowers, music or violins.
It shall never be a perfect memory?
But perhaps I want it this way.


when i will whisper you about
my imperfect love ,
It shall be the same,
something that
will never remain
as a perfect
special memory.
(for you)

(But will be oddly special for me,
like the rocks, grasses and fields)