Poem 56#

There’a broken tap in the kitchen sink,
It keeps shredding pellets of water at night,
Many tried to fix it,
To repair the seal.
Yet it remains broken.

But doesn’t leak during morning hours,
For mum ties it with a muslin cloth.

“See now? There’s always a way to fix broken things,” Maa proudly says,

“I wish temporary solutions would work that way,”
I continue with the dishes for the day
With the soggy old sponge, I start cleaning the dishes,
It has holes now, blobs of black dots surround its core,
Yet it scrubs away the dirt and cleans the vessels perfectly fine.

Maa’s favourite steel kadhai is blackened due to overuse,
It takes me more than a couple of mins to scrub a small patch of dot,

“Ugh this won’t go away, Maa!!”

“Oh it’s an old stain, it won’t leave this quick,”
maa reckons to me,

“Then what do I do?”

“Find a way to clean the black stain, Shibu.”

“But it’ll take a lot more time, too much work.”
I sigh,

“Then what do you wish to do?
Let the stain get darker and even more difficult to get off?”

Maybe she was right,
Maybe old stains never leave their shore easily after all.
Keep getting darker by day,
And harder to forget or erase.

-Shivani Dubey.

To the one I adore

At times he’s like the coffee he drinks every morning or late at night,

Bitter with a sweet aftertaste, you’d fall in love, if you have too much

Too little you’d never appreciate the ecstasy it brings.

He’s a fan of mysteries and lies,but expects the truth, even tho he always hides

But keeps giving subtle cues if you pay attention for sometime time.

I end up bringing up our old times,with new moijoto or whiskey neat,

Our Memories feel like red label on the rocks, that I try to gulp in all at once,

The subtle burn in my throat brings my parched voice alive.

He replies till late midnight, until the alcohol slows starts vanishing off and then I peacefully rest to sleep.

Somedays he feels like the wind caressing me, gently playing with my hair, tucking that extra piece of strand aside,

But the others he feels too frigid, one that might scratch back the past wounds and send shivers down your spine.

He acts aloof like the full moon surrounded by the shining stars at night.

He likes to be the life of the party too, until he feels alone even among the stars so bright, he slowly keeps withdrawing a part of him each night,

Only to see how many of them actually stay his side.

He’s not the prince charming kinda guy, but yes he’s chivalrous enough to hold the door all the time,

He acts like a Casanova by showing off his manly hues,

but in end he’s Jon Snow who knows nothing.

And that’s what I adore.


No matter how much I wash away that t-shirt,

Your scent still lingers along,

How much I scrub my skin away

Your touch is still felt the same way.

Because even though you’re not here with me,

You’re still alive, somewhere in between

The disappeared hickeys

Or the empty texts

The sore behaviour we gave each other that day.

But I wish to forget you,

And the lonely station, that guided me to your place,

The cold tiles of your empty hallway,

And your empty eyes that welcomed me that day.


You’re here, you shall always be,

In the small heart of mine, you broke easily that day.

Musing (2)

At times they blabber hurtful things,

But moist eyes never utter a thing,

Shrivelled lips bring out a fresh smile,

The exanimate voice, utters a sigh,

I’ll be fine’

exanimate : showing no sign of life; lifeless.

Musing (1)

The happiness in your life is like,

The afternoon shadow.

Short yet beautiful.

You wish it’d last longer, but it can’t.

But the pain,

Is like your gloomy shadow at night,

You know it’s a part of you,

How much ever you try to run away from it,

It’ll always be there by your side.


He was scarred,

He was broken,

He felt empty,

Was often mistaken.

A deceitful soul,

Silent and unemotional,

He had a damaged heart and

a wounded core,

He felt incomplete,

But yet was unshaken.