Lady Gaia

An attempt at poetry after years of dry spell


Lady Gaia
In peace, she rests
With a Velveteen cover
Of bright green hues
Dark green lace
Rotund mounds and humps of dew
On a Bed of blue
Pillows of white
Chirping music in the background
Lovely fragrance
Of lush nature
Whiff of tea, lemon grass and pinecones
And whatever wild trees are made of
Light brown veins
Carry her lifelines
Who she let’s live on her
Caring, caressing
Sometimes they tickle
Sometimes they poke
Most of the times they scurry around
Unlike her other multilegged sows
They savour. They support
Her body like she does their life
The two-legged ones, though
Don’t treat her right
But a mother is as a mother does
On she loves
On she leaves
With peace, she let’s them be

Loneliness lies between your fingers

The loneliness lies in the invisible nooks and crevices of your life. An inevitable stamp that coats every fibre of your being, separating you from the world.

Loneliness lies in the crevices between your fingers that were once filled. It’s like the skin there is marked with the knowledge and remembrance. And it now calls to relive the experience of another skin. Of your friend, your child or your parent. Or maybe even the distant lover who refuses to leave that deep set corner of your mind.

Loneliness, it sometimes is in the invisible outline of a hand at the small of your back. It’s in the memory of a time in another lifetime of being held and maybe even loved. And sometimes, it’s in the caresses showered on your body, when your thighs rested against his. When your chest lined her back as support. Or in the nape where their shoulder met their neck, the place where your cheeks and nose rested in love. And in the laugh-lined crinkle of your eyes that were once alive with joy. Or in the fullness of your lips that their tongue once explored.

Loneliness lies in the warmth that once coated your body, and has now seeped into your soul. A warmth that oddly now leaves you cold and shivering on a balmy night.

And sometimes, loneliness stares back at you from the dark ceiling of your room, on a starry sleepless night. And if you decide to go for a stroll, it reflects in the night’s moon and the stars, which once held all the hopes and dreams of a happy future, but now seem distant and lifeless. And when the day’s tiredness slowly pulls your lids shut, the loneliness falls from the ceiling to softly drape over you and the empty space next to you. It’s the thick warm quilt you snuggle under.

Loneliness, my friend, is not in the solitude. It’s in the company, or lack thereof. It’s in the outside world. And in the memories that line the inside of your mind, like a million movies playing continuously non-stop. Or in the gaps and spaces in your heart.

Loneliness lies in the very nerve endings of your skin, that’s now exposed to their absence, perhaps for ever.


There was a part of her 
Hidden from the world
Even when bared, she hid it well
You may kiss her skin, and drink her juice 
But give up her soul, she did not 
For how could she,
If herself, she knew not
Nor how to give up her core. 
So many tried, driven mad by want. 
But empty-handed, they stared at defeat.
Until you. 
Now she gives her precious time
To dig into the corners
And scrap every inch, every little bit
Of herself, she could offer
Like a devotee to God
Like we hunt for coins of change
Every single piece of her, 
Broken, hidden or forgotten. 
Body, mind, soul and something more, 
She craves to give and give, 
While on her back on the soft materials
One earth-shattering moment at a time.

Where do I belong?

I sow pieces of my soul,
At places around the world.
I grow world-wise,
But never am I whole.
Scattered across, nowhere do I belong,
Or perhaps I am too large,
Too global to belong anywhere.
Everyday I spread my tentacles further,
Away from the core,
Hidden in plain sight,
My roots are, but broken jewels,
Shimmering light around.
The beauty captures your senses, ensnares you.
But look closely,
It is, but a broken jewel;
It is, my scattered life.

My musing


It swirls around my tongue
Sometimes smooth like skin young,
But, sometimes coarse and rough.

It holds great power;
Some beckon it, but for cover, makes many run.

Many wish to wield it;
Some to destroy; some to create beauty.

Yet many others over look it;
A mistake, very costly, that be.

For in it lies mankind’s greatest achievement,
But now, for great strife, it is now the cause;
A pity, for in itself, it’s sheer beauty.

Humans put it to different use,
Often based on a certain muse.

From it comes both literature and cussing;
Language, that’s my musing.

The Unknown Pen


The Unknown Pen is a youth-based art platform that publishes poems, articles, pictures and other forms of art from artists all over the world. Here is a message from the founder Syed Amaan Ahmed:

We publish interviews of artists, photographers, writers, poets, change-makers in our The Uncut Diamonds Section. We pick up people whose work is incredible, as per the standards of The Unknown Pen (TUP). We focus on the less-known artists who deserve the place. However, we also focus on genuine people who already are well-known/famous and also the people who are known in some parts but not in other parts of the world: this also includes various social organizations, NGO’s, groups, and so on. We pick up the best. We publish excellent work only to maintain high quality, but we do not give a damn about spelling mistakes, grammar, rules, etc. An artist is free! Sometimes we even publish unedited and raw work with mistakes. For us, high quality means originality and unique imagery. Previously published on TUP in The Uncut Diamonds:

1) Akash Kankaria (India): Poet/Writer (Age: 20s)
2) Minhaj Jahan (India): Poet (Age: 20s)
3) Zsa-Zsa van Zyl (South Africa): Artist/Painter (Age: 20s)
4) Caroline Cecile (USA): Poet (Age: 50s)
5) Don V Standeford (USA): Writer/Poet (Age: 50s)
6) Moupriya Das (India): Change-maker/Social Activist/Feminist and founder of SlutWalk Kolkata. (Age: 20s)
7) Jazba Theater Group (India): Theater/Street Plays/Art/Drama/Change

We have selected some of the following people for our next interviews, which we will publish soon on our The Uncut Diamond Section

1) Sandhya Kannan (India): Writer/poet (Age: 20s)
2) Sara Gilchrist (USA): Writer/Poet/Artist (Age: 20s)
3) Raven Drake (USA): Writer/Poet (Age: 40s)
4) Sue Das (India): Poet (Age: 20s)
5) Brandon Diehl (UK): Poet (Age: 20s)
6) Laurie Smakal (France): Photographer (Age: 18)
7) Pranaadhika Montenegro Sinha Devburman (India): Social Activist/Rebel and founder of Elaan (Age: 20s)
8) Anjali Pathak (India): Singer (Age: 20s)
9) Alina Tarabarinova (Russia): Photographer (Age: 20s)
10) Michele Montedoro (Italy): Photographer (Age: 40s)

Note that we embrace all nations, all nationals, anyone, whoever, from whatever background as long as they meet our standards. If you think and feel that your work is different, then do send us. And even if you think it is not different, then also send us and we will check and get back to you! Also, you can send an email requesting an interview and if we think you fall under The Uncut Diamond category, you will be interviewed. Email: or FB Message me. Please, please and please in subject line write: Submission/Poetry (or story or anything) and for Interviews, write “Interview”.

Let’s Revive the Spirit of Art!

PS: Spread the word, if you want to.