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  • surabhig 6w

    I am back after a long long time.
    Actually, I can say that it is my season 2 of the writting era.
    Season 1 was the time when my mom could recover from cancer.
    And now season 2 is when I am just lost in my past...
    Though things are quite straight now, there is stiffness everywhere.
    I have lost in that despair and that disgrace...
    I have lost myself in the process of medically healing myself....
    I have lost the happiness, to listen to the sound of rain...
    I have lost the taste of my perfect coffee
    And infact the desire to make it as well.
    I have lost hope in all,
    And amongst all.
    I have been a machine,
    Operating on some logics that's all.
    A slumber deep sleep and a buffet full of food,
    Topped with cheese,
    I dont believe in fantasy,
    In anything above than these...

    I have lost the faith,
    In the almighty,
    I have lost the cheerfulness,
    Which was in abundance with me always...

    As some sequel have their own charm,
    From season 1 to season 2,
    These characters change a lot,
    A season 1 flashback,
    Holds in my life as well,
    I was that girl, happy go lucky,
    Waiting to flaunt my dreams,
    Always and forever.
    Dreaming of something bigger,
    Deeper and peaceful.

    Season 2, this time,
    The characters and their backgrounds,
    Are locked same now,
    But the only thing changes,
    Is my view,
    I am that woman now,
    Who has become independent,
    To such a core,
    That now she dreams of nothing,
    No man can make her happy,
    Neither she is wanting to give away her happiness
    To any such stranger...

    Seasons change,
    Leaves have their fall,
    Skies empty themselves by raining,
    And the sun rises above all...

    Correlating then,
    I am at stage 1...
    There are 2 more phases of trauma,
    For that sun to heal
    For that sun to come.


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  • surabhig 8w

    Food for every mood,
    And thought for every food,
    A click of the moment,
    Captured and seized,
    In our hearts straight..

    Cooking a poetry,
    Is a tough task indeed,
    It needs a heavy preparation,
    Making rhyme is not the only function...

    Some figures of speech,
    Some reflection of memories,
    A pinch of nostalgia,
    A spoon of hope,
    And a cup of peace at heart...

    A dash of dreams,
    And a handfull of sleep...

    A flashback,
    A comeback,
    Of transforming words,
    To memories.

    Cooking all these,
    On a mild flame,
    That will brim,
    Up all the moments,
    Back to live stream.

    Then served piping hot,
    Garnished with soothing music,
    Laid on the long dinning table,
    Awaiting ears,
    Thirsty for some interesting piece.


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  • surabhig 15w

    Nostalgic for the past, anxious for the future,
    Trying to live today, with hopes dead forever !


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  • surabhig 15w

    Set A : I am nobody! who are you ?
    Set B : Truth

    Where there is known,
    Nothing to the world,
    Where its all hidden to the worst,
    Where it is all buried deep,
    Its all that disturbs our sleep.

    Its the mightiest of all,
    The tallest then the fall,
    The broadest than the bridges,
    And the highest of all hills,
    Its truth that rises all of the above,
    Brightening the darkest of all sorrows.

    Its a whole some for a nobody !
    Its always a known for everybody!


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  • surabhig 19w

    I am running at the fastest speed possible,
    And with gathering all the breathes possible,
    And just wishing that I borad in to that train,
    For this week, I don't want to reach late again !!

    And in the admist I fall down,
    Unable to balance myself and making a frown,
    I try to get up and again land down in the bed,
    Yes its past 8 AM,
    My boss would be calling me at any stage,
    I get up and wake up from my dream,
    That dream which was once a reality,
    Strucks my mind hard,
    Every day as this covid gets itself increasing,
    Leaving me in the closed indoors,
    For all and everything.

    Then I wake up,
    Get fresh and join my office,
    On mu bed besides my pillow,
    Is my office,
    Which was once 2 miles away.

    Then I am wokring,
    Grabing some coffeeand breakfast plate,
    I did not even realise,
    The moment i get up to keep in the sink,
    Its almost past 1 PM,
    And my stomach is growling,
    And asking me, to grab some rice,
    Within it.

    This day and this week,
    Is going on and on forever,
    From morning coffee,
    To tea time breaks,
    We are landed in front of laptops,
    Post that parked in our phones,
    To binge watch,
    The insta stories,
    Latest covid updates,
    And some Netflix series.

    A week of 5 soon comes to an end,
    And thaf saturday,
    That lazy Saturday,
    Is so very stricf on us these days,
    Get up early,
    Put on the maks,
    And complete the grocery, veggiee shopping,
    For the next week,
    We need to stock our fridge quite well.

    A sunday is the laziest of all,
    Some news of covid,
    Some news of death,
    Some news of work,
    Some of again that dalgona coffee stuff,
    Everything virtual,
    Taking out the reality,
    Cameras off,
    And voice on mute,
    It seems the worst of all quarrantine.

    Washing hands,
    And what not !!

    This lockdown,
    Is going into heads,
    I want that running behind the train,
    That fights over window seats again,
    That walks in my office campus,
    That food of my canteen,
    That machine coffee,
    Amd that fun meetings,
    Those conferences,
    Attended for free food and coffee,
    Those work overtime,
    And that street side,
    Chai and sandwhich time,
    I want this all !!

    Once which was my reality,
    Today has been a dream,
    Only if the coming generations could know,
    What a pandemic,
    And lockdown would be !!


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  • surabhig 20w

    I turned 25 this May,
    I don't know if I lived it Apt or no,
    But yes whatsoever,
    It was the happiest and fullest of all way.

    I am made of 25 years today,
    Some days of childhood fun,
    Somedays of teenage crush,
    Someday of adulthood spent in dying effort,
    Somedays of youth enjoyed a lot !!

    I am made of 25 years today,
    Some filled with heaps of laughter,
    Some with days of grief,
    Some with hours of envy,
    And many with moments of pride.

    I am made of 25 years today,
    Yes earned a bit of money,
    A few friends,
    A recovered health,
    And a some lessons learnt as I led.

    I am made of 25 years today,
    With a bit of ambition achieved straight,
    With tones of wishes, dreamed away,
    With pounds of things in my life, i really want to replace,
    With millions of thoughts that I just,
    Shrugged away,
    Thinking that's its not as easy,
    As sitting on the hay.

    I am made of 25 years today,
    Quite self sufficient I must say,
    Pain, grief or happiness,
    I am very well, being all alone,
    May that be any day !!

    I am made of 25 years today,
    Have learnt few lessons,
    At a very early day,
    Have seen few pains,
    At a very early stage,
    Have dealt with sorrow,
    In a literally awesome way !!

    I am made of 25 years today,
    At an age of complete independence,
    But still preserving the child,
    Within me,
    That made me of 25 years old today !!!


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  • surabhig 21w

    It is always a bliss,
    To be surrounded by people,
    At all the times.

    But it is way more soothing,
    To enjoy your own company.

    Because you never know,
    The people you thought,
    You were comfortable with,
    Turned to crowds, one day.

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  • surabhig 21w

    Life is all about,
    Living to the fullest,
    The only wish is,
    To live in such a way that,
    Though our presence may not be noticed,
    Our absence ought to be felt !!

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  • surabhig 21w


    Today, 24th may 2021, the most usual day as it would be.
    I woke up got fresh and started the daily music dose, to bear the regularity of life.
    Then, i opened my laptop and started to glance through the mails, that will eat up my head today.
    It was a very boring and a regular Monday morning, everyone was wishing good morning on our group chat, being a work from home culture !!

    While my tasks for the day were being planned,
    I got a message from a colleague,
    Saying pls do this,
    She wasn't my boss,
    Neither any senior,
    Just as me, the same level junior,
    It hit me hard as her tone,
    Wasn't cool,
    Ordering me, was never her tool.

    I was upset and moreover distressed,
    Monday morning,
    And such troubling,
    Was all i could anticipate.

    Its with deep breaths,
    That i got somehow,
    Back to normal,
    Carrying out some tasks,
    Making myself little stronger.

    To all the rescue then comes,
    My best friend,
    My office survival kit,
    Is his name,
    As the name,
    So is the fame,
    Work, help and what not to say.

    I ranted and ranted,
    About all the politics,
    I knew he was the only one,
    Who could understand,
    Without judging,
    I always had a crush on him,
    More than looks,
    His deeds,
    Impressed me.

    His nature and always there for me,
    These things went on adding,
    That feeling to me,
    If only i had him,
    Not only as a work partner,
    But someone to say as partner of life,
    What fun would the act of surviving be.

    It turned upside down,
    When he said,
    He is looking for a switch,
    My mind was almost down the rail,
    Looking and wondering,
    How to survive,
    In his absence.

    From Dreaming of him,
    To Being my partner forever,
    To settling down,
    With hidden crush,
    And then office colleague,
    To a best friend's zone,
    There was a storm within me,
    How would i survive,
    If my kit is lost,
    I would definitely,
    Loose in the wait of his hault.

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    The fear of absence


  • surabhig 23w

    Poems are mosaics,
    Made of broken pieces of heart,
    Glued together,
    With hope and lightning spark,
    Tied around with simile,
    Blended and knotted,
    With metaphors,
    Beautified with hyperbole,
    And shaped,
    Into a rhythm,
    Letters after words,
    And words after letters,
    Onomatopoeia makes,
    The ear to long for that tiny tickle.

    Poems are mosaics,
    Made of broken pieces of heart,
    They are words,
    Having no voice,
    No matter how true,
    That Sound it had,
    So these words,
    Got inked forever,
    No matter if There's anyone to listen,
    Words are reaching the far generation,
    Mentoring someone's broken heart,
    From the pieces of someone's,
    Lost hope and will apart.


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    Mosaic of Poetry.