The Spoilt Brat!



Daily Prompt: Smoke

Like the haunting tale recalled,

Of the nightly beast that haunts.

The smoke he smoked went up and blurred

In rings it went and evanescence.

His mouth was shaped into an O,

As if the beast inside was trying to grow.

The ring resembled the moon so close

It threatened to change the moonless night.

His hissing blow shatters the silence,

Of the howling wolf his stance compares.

He smiles at us and shrugs his frame

But inside lays something that has had fame.

Atop he shows he doesn’t know.

Inside a joke with the beast he shares.


via Daily Prompt: Smoke

P.s.: Don’t smoke. It appears to be cool but it kills. Don’t smoke.

I Sleep With My Eyes Open

I sleep with my eyes open.

But I don’t live with my eyes closed.

My dream stays awake with me.

Active inside me every second.

Passive lays the need to sleep,

Passive lays my fatigue.

I sleep with my eyes open.

To Dream unrealistically,

But stay in my senses to fulfil them.

I sleep with my eyes open.

And Dream.


Unbeknownst to me,

She was the tale I carried between my heart

Trapped between my lips

And at the tip of my tongue.

Unbeknownst to her,

I was the eccentric silent speaker

Who spoke with his mouth shut

And read the words unsaid.

Steps On A Ladder

When I was five,

I felt I will be robbed off my life

If I stood at the roots of a gigantic structure.

Be it a tree or architecture.

Now I am older.

Climbing the rungs of a ladder.

Hoping that one day it will be a staircase grand.

I have a secret knowledge in my hand.

The child me wasn’t afraid of being at the top

but of beginning the journey with the approving nod.

Now that I am higher in the air

my fear has seemed to disappear.


She was a book.

Layered herself like one.

Pages within, encrypted with undecipherable script.

Some pages torn. Some chapters lost.

Secrets embedded within.

Messages out of view/Meanings within the lines.

She was exactly like a book.

Waiting to be read.

Waiting to be understood.

Waiting with her secrets.

Waiting for a confidant.


An Ode to the girl,
With the dreamy curls.
With a dazzling smile
My heart who entwined.

An Ode to the light,
Who fights with might.
Against the dark,
Where the shadows lark.

An Ode to my Sun,
My only one.
Glowing like the moon,
Spoiling like a toon.

And one final salutation to the fact,
That these all amalgamate intact.
And form the angel with lute,
Who (with me) did Cupid shoot.