I can’t write about you
It never comes out the way I want it to
Don’t get me wrong
I love writing about you
But I don’t want to look back at my art shameful of it’s outcome
Especially if it’s about you
I write haikus because they’re easier to phrase
Straight to the point
But I used to hate haikus
I always thought they were pointless
Short and not well thought out
I thought they were a lazy attempt at giving something meaning
I don’t know what happened
But something changed my mind
I try to write long poems about you
But I get lost in thought
I write without thinking
And when I read what I’ve written
I want to burn it
This isn’t even a poem at this point
I see no passion in what I’ve written
Just a confession that I’ll look at a few days from now and never touch again
These words stuffed with meaning they weren’t supposed to have
Will collect dust
Until I decide it’s time to say goodbye
I’m sorry I can’t write a long poem about you
I hope you still like the short ones.
I hope I marry a man who loves me in ways the world can see.
Not just in quiet words spoken when no one is around,
but in crowded places where his eyes still search for me first.
A man who brings me flowers for no special reason,
on an ordinary day,
simply because I crossed his mind
and he wanted me to know.
The kind of man who waits for me while I get ready,
leaning against the doorway with a soft smile,
watching me as if even my smallest habits
are worth remembering.
A man who loves me not only in grand gestures,
but in the unnoticed moments—
the comfortable silences,
the gentle touches,
the way he reaches for my hand without thinking.
Someone who makes the ordinary feel extraordinary,
until the simplest days with him
become the memories my heart holds onto forever.
I hope I marry a man whose love feels like home—
steady, warm, and certain—
the kind of love that never has to be questioned,
because it is shown in a hundred quiet ways every single day.
Every door has a line
you cross without thinking
the one between outside
and in.
Most days you don't feel it.
Some days it is everything.
That line holds more than weight:
it holds the will to move,
the choosing to go through
when going through costs something.
Not just the body
that walks on good days
but the one that stops,
breathes,
then walks anyway.
The one that rolls.
The one that takes the long way
because the short way
wasn't built for it.
You carry yourself across.
Not the version
with the right papers,
the right words,
the right way of moving
the real version:
warm,
already enough,
asking no permission
at the line.
The crossing costs nothing
except the willingness
to move.
And on the other side
is the same sky,
a little lighter now,
and you, arrived,
carrying what you carried,
which was always
everything.
There was a time
when everything felt easy,
like the world had no sharp edges.
I laughed without thinking,
ran without knowing why,
and trusted without fear.
Mornings felt like a gift,
as if the light itself
was reaching out to me.
I never wondered
if people meant harm—
it simply didn’t cross my mind.
But slowly, things shifted.
Not in a loud way,
just small changes
I couldn’t explain at first.
The world grew heavier,
questions started to rise,
and silence felt different.
Still, something stayed—
a quiet part of me
that refused to harden.
Even now,
in the middle of everything,
I chooses to see gently.
Because innocence
is not something that disappears,
it just waits to be found again.
I didn’t see it happen.
That’s what I can’t shake off.
There wasn’t a day
I can go back to
and say--
that’s when things changed.
You were still there.
Same place, same voice.
We still talked.
We still leaned into the same space
like nothing was wrong.
But something was already off.
You started keeping things to yourself.
Not big things.
Just the usual stuff
you used to say without thinking.
I didn’t ask.
I took it as you being a little off,
or I was.
It didn’t feel serious.
That’s what makes it worse,
because now,
when I try to remember
how it ended.
There’s nothing to hold onto;
No argument, no final words.
Just a stretch of time
where you slowly
stopped reaching back,
And I didn’t notice
until I had already
gotten used to it.
A cardiac prophecy, a sensual exchange
I’m feeling your energy run through my veins
Your aura consumes me, it invades my brain
My heartbeat is clumsy, you drive me insane
I honor the arrhythmia no matter the price
The butterflies in my chest are really quite nice
You woke something in me, I was living in ice
Til you melted my walls without thinking twice
I’m a moth to your flicker, a slave to your flame
My heart is calling and it’s declaring your name
This electrical current just cannot be tamed
An amorous arrhythmia, I’ll never be the same..
grass slick slippery
garlanded with dew's glint beads
taunts weary sleepers
to reach out without thinking
beyond sinking stepping stones
dawn light ogles through
a grey, hopscotch-scattered sky
crunching clouds aside
to find a way through chaos
beyond sinking stepping stones
treetops break the skin
of bedraggled drowned-out mists
frogs croak waterlogged—
no shores for sleepwalking gulls
beyond sinking stepping stones
horizon dissolves
unhitched from any compass
worn edges are blurred—
direction is strewn with ash
beyond sinking stepping stones
echoes lose their source,
I am confused, miasmal
moored meanings unspooled—
I grab for something solid,
beyond sinking stepping stones
in off-ramp byways
of shiftless realities
I crawl through muddles
clambering to find a way
beyond sinking stepping stones
Come admiration in lush
The pleasure that make you blush
Of becoming dear to your crush
I need to talk to you
It signals the pit to woo
Which one endlessly pursue
J wish this is to Him your mind
The pleasure breed loyalty to find
No bluff in the faith admired
Think of the panic
That gives in without manic
Even not minding how acerbic
Toast His distress
The holy protection on the cross
That delivers your peace
The deep breath
Which activates salvation's birth
Via his brutal death
What is right
Easy but seems tight
Earn never without fight
Who live without life
Jesus' salvage cum strife
Thrive not without thinking afterlife
He is the way
On which you find brae
Follow on cum grey
He gave out His best
Fight and beat your chest
To never rest till you rest
For there will be no grace
After the earth's race
Hugged by your own trace
I long to be cycling up a mountain pass
A mountain goat on the cliff, a lake like glass
A foaming river on my left, cascading down the height
Indian paintbrush in a meadow, snowy peaks on my right.
And I couldn’t go wrong
If I had Dad along
The way he used to be
Explaining the landforms to me.
Mother and brothers would pedal too
We’d crest the pass to a panoramic view
of mountains and valleys and a wide blue ocean
Elegant towns, freight trains in motion.
Once the road was narrow, but the future was wide
Every pass a stepping stone, every mile sanctified
We ventured without thinking what it cost or meant
Some stops to regroup, but hope fueled our ascent.
I long to be cycling up that mountain pass
But freedom like that now lives in the past
Can’t do it anymore—so many restraints
Maybe in an afterlife we’ll ride with the saints.
Back to the mountain, just a metaphor
We go our own ways, life closes the door.
If you take the wrong path, hard to get on track.
Can't tell the clock to turn itself back.
I saw the shadow of a dark night
it was a man with a hat and he had anger
Like the whispers of shattered soul
He begged for mercy but was given coal
In the troubles he found deep roots
in his journey he was lost in forest fruits
drinking many things forbidden him
Tasting many things not meant to last
He caught a ride on the whirl wind
Started dancing without thinking he did so much sin
Monster crawling he had sold the world
A bargain in his madness never knew he was already bought
He belongs to a friend who loves he so
His friend is from beyond the world don't you know
Juniper seeds almond bark and many shades of ruby melons feed his tide
The moon exploded into day light
Honor goes to my best friend who hides in secret only he can judge the land
I know measured space and time
I know I entered this life Blind
now I am found by my good pal
He stuck with me even though I always gave him hell
ingurgitating is my deal
I do it at every meal
without thinking my mouth digs in
ensuring I will never be too thin
TOO WISE TO BREATHE!
I don't know this feeling, a stranger's guise,
Appreciate, contradict, beneath my eyes.
Deny, agree, a hollow, echoing sound,
Mock, express, on unfamiliar ground.
Direct, assert, yet feel no fire within,
Confused, detached, where do I begin?
I act these parts, but why no empathy's spark?
My fights for others, lost within the dark.
Am I not me? Echoes in the room,
This knowing vast, a curse or a boon?
They don’t see how easy it is
to live without thinking,
to spend without counting,
to die without wanting.
A simple joy where hollow echoes bear,
That you can laugh, where I can only stare,
A lightness found within the heavy air.
This endless abyss, where shadows play and blend,
I know the answers, but they bring no end.
A bitter truth I can’t outrun,
I decode it all, yet come undone.
Bold enough to unveil the unknown,
Lost in the depths I call my own.
High enough to grasp what you conceal,
Misguided enough to drown in what's real.
~Pallavi Pandey
Neither body nor mind calls itself ‘I’,
yet saying so, our hand goes to the heart
without thinking and we do not ask why,
so it is there where God-search must start.
Our soul is more than the sum of the parts,
yet where it dwells is what we must inquire,
that doing so, as delusion departs,
we reclaim the light for which we aspire.
Silence transcends the boundaries of mind,
that as wisdom from the void is imbibed,
in stillness becoming divine aligned,
light of heaven is on our heart inscribed.
The path’s clear but we must walk upon it,
assured that in time we’ll reach the summit.
They are trampoline heroes
Battling unknown and unseen demons
Twirling in mock flight
Feigning a fierceness not felt
Children of a lesser fraud
Molded by changing winds
Guided by often unsure hands
Learning to trust in themselves
Lessons from multiple mentors
The necessity of strength
The guidance of gentleness
Softening the voice of anger
They will learn from the building of Magna-tile castles
The basics of perseverance and character
The machinations of a forming mind
Changing with each decision made
They seek without seeking
Think without “thinking”
Trust that the trampoline is safe
Knowing that we are there
Empty race
That's what they want us to run
Running aimlessly, living like slaves
Wandering around planet earth
Working without earning
Living without thinking
So we won't be aware
Of the poor infrastructure, political instability, corruption, institutional weaknesses etc
They always abuse our potential
They know the dirty games they play
Creating chaos and fear to give News
Trying to be our muse
Just to lead and misuse us
But our senses we always put into use
We are always feeling good
Even when they belittle or neglect us.
If you've never
Been seen as nobody
You can never be somebody
Not all shame lame or tame you
Some are triggers for your growth
Stay strong; so you can break yokes.
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