Tag Archives: dream


I wish, if I could sleep..
Alas, mind refuses to retire.
Memories swim in the labyrinth
suffocating peace to breathe through.
However evoking soul to wish for a dream.

I wish, if I could dream..
and immerse self to feel eternal
for eyes ready to lent to have a glimpse
of a virtual world, so incredible to be true.
Though, it could be an illusion of gleam.

I wish, if I could reborn..
in that world of endless smiles
with no traces of fears and tears
to savour each moments forever anew
until let gazes to believe in the cream.

I wish, if I could die..
and never wake up from deep slumber
by freezing dream in that moment of bliss
so the soul can possess this piece of hue
and start its voyage to a divine realm.

I wished, if my dreams were real..
Despite knowing it is a sheer mirage..!

© Maaya Dev

The Forgotten Swan Songs

Rippling in melancholy melodies,
Washing past the jagged edges
Of my furtive calf-love,
My girlhood days breathe in a little nook
Of oblivion, a passing phase,
Forgotten pearls, scratched and resurfaced
In the waves of my kitchen songs,
Nestled in embalming domesticity.

My days, recycling and monitoring
At every turn, I thought my swan songs were long dead.
But a quicksilver flash of torn off petals
Wave at me in the mirror.

In their hushed fog, their half-finished stories
I feel, that their contours are running
Deeper than my brain had thought.

( Footnotes: My poetic attempt to celebrate, search for, bring out the scattered pearls of my girlhood days. The days of my fumbling with school and love songs, the days of my secretly spun girl stories, the days of my sunshine dreams and the trophy of attaining puberty. Created and developed in early December 2014, while hosting an online poetry workshop at a poetry group in Facebook.)

A Dream For My Unborn Child

Many a times I’ve thought of you
O fabric of my dreams, my unborn child.
Let not constant abrasion make your texture tattered and torn
And fade the vibrant color of your lips.

Let not the scorching glare of reality
Wake your dreamy, azure eyes with a psychotic stare.
Look not now, at the dark night and deep blue sky
Where endless battles clash with crackling, forbidden sounds.
Where nocturnal creatures cry out with prolonged pain.

Every night, I look out at the legend and mystery of the dark sky
In the cool breeze and dampness of shadows,
When the droplets of the stars glisten my hair,
I think of you, clutching my chest in hunger and surrender.
I think of you, wafting with me into pleasing flights of fancy.
Around us, an embalming shade, a magic cloak
Cocoons you inside me in blissful warmth.

Soon the battles will be over
For us to share endless starry nights,
Walking all through the moonlit way
To the solitude of the galaxies,
Along with you, wrapped in smells of nectar
I will sail on harbors with dusky breeze,
Let you behold the silver streams, the boats and the surf,
When serenities and magic will unfold on our way.

Your tiny, angelic fingers clasping my own,
Hand in hand, we both will sure make our way.
Sail our way amidst wind and soft embrace,
And wake up to an earth
Where children play delightful symphonies
Where raindrops kiss all parched mothers and hapless kids
Humming a tune of love’s little quiescence.

( Footnote: This poem is immensely personal. It was written for my first child when I was 27 weeks pregnant, a tiny delight tucked inside my tummy. With this poem and with all my scattered thoughts about her, I had dreamed about sheltering her from this world of battered souls, daydreaming of some day, when after having her in my arms, I could fulfill both of our lives with the serenity and magic of love.)

Sweet Surrender

Sweet, sweet surrender,
There are scars upon my heart
When I come back to your arms
You like to prick them, stand still,
And admire my integrity.
That you know for sure,
Sweet is the flower that rests on the thorns!

In darkest waters do I sleep
With the sweaty jostle of clumsy streets,
Come to me with your scarlet lips and crimson wrists,
Together let us weep crystal tears buried in shadows deep.
Your heart be the candlelight, your soul be the gold
That chains my life with unspoken sins galore;
So let me bleed, and not restore,
Sweet, sweet surrender.

Here do I come to seek the spring
In the luscious, flowing rivers of your arms.
Arms that resist to heal.
Fruits of much grief they are, surely emblems of more,
Together we have died and bled of love,
Sweet, sweet surrender.

Come, let us melt in deep, turquoise lakes and azure skies,
Pass away quietly in lullabies of our slumber.
The inferno of our pain will wander in the winds,
Carrying secret breaths resting in shades of amber…
Sweet, sweet surrender.

I think of mistakes and redemption lying in their graves
And we, with our pains, are thoroughly blessed.
The greatest ashes of our shared wounds lie
In those tombs of the yesteryears
So let us die and rise the same
For yet another resurrection of pain.
Sweet, sweet surrender.

( This poem has been published in the Fall 2013 issue of 13th Floor Magazine, a bi-annual literary journal produced by the Writer’s Workshop department at the University of Nebraska at Omaha.)

The Revisiting

An old love flaunted itself in half-written letters.

An old love buried in the slippery sands of time.

An old love puffed fiercely, flashed sugary smiles,

Clenched at me tight, and loosened,

Cried in long, ragged sobs.

An old love finds me in smoke, sips of coffee and yawning.

An old love comes to visit me, his face ghostly and blurred.

I take him in and we begin to talk,

Greet each other in discreet, playful nods.

We talk in shadows and scribbling,

In warm monotones and the equation of rhetoric.

We’ve rubbed off awkward kisses, wayward fantasies

With the palm of our hands.

Our delicate, birdlike buffoonery slapped hard

By a slate of routine chores.

A scrapbook of lost words careen around the room.

My hands, stretch out to him in stray lines

Azure blue, green, purple shades of calf love.

Keystrokes of a lost harmony, fading, resounding,

Crossing paths in a dim, complicated dream,

Melting, wafting, diminishing again.

An old love is a long smear on my whiteboard face,

In twilight memories, summons me

In anonymous blinks and glittering.

I watch him from afar, lanky, white-haired and lost,

Leave the room with the faint odor of our used up days.


Lopa Banerjee. October 23, 2014


I am an aquarian
Yet I crave for the unstoppable aqua-flow
Covering incredible distances
Facing every rock, every mountain 
With amazing grit and wit
An ocean, a sea, the destiny
That seems so untouchable
Yet made possible
By a simple feeble creek
Yes I am an aquarian
I have a dream
The dream of an ocean
A dream is a dream,is a dream
What matters most is this
Who had the dream?
Can I be the creek
That meets its dream
Yes I want to be an ocean
A drop yet an ocean

The Mould

An erratic writing after a long break from poetry… I don’t know if this is a whole poem or three different ones, and hence separated with asterisks. But this is what I penned down as I sat in the morning OutPatient Unit at the hospital and took the blank side of an investigation prescription sheet. The picture below was the unexpected prompt that made me write the first two lines. white-Daisies-in-the-rain

Raindrops needle through my petals,
Splice through my parched heart…
I can see you smile in the dark night,
I can see the bygone dreams again…
I can find myself in love songs –
Something I didn’t dare for long…


The canopy of my joy is made of
Dark clouds that shade the glares;
The sunshine is just a dream
That’s best kept behind the veils…
Maybe this was what took shape
Over times of reducing grey thoughts…


The lyrical daydreams are blossoms
That last a single day,
But when every day is a song,
It lasts as long as you want…
Love, I see now, is just a filling –
The mould is always you…

© Sana Rose 2014
May 5th, 2014

I Have A Dream

I have a dream

It has a cost

Quite often I am lost

Not in the dream

But in the cost

My eyes prove a bad host

Not ready to pay the cost

The result is that

My dreams are lost

And I am reduced to living

Just living

And you never know

What I live

Prove my own dreams

Behind a different skin

And those eyes may be mine

Dream Season

spring dream
a rooster stirs the stillness
into dawn

calmness . . .
jogging into
the spring dawn

hot spring bath –
the nibbling fish
tingle my skin

I photograph
its mist of spring

train pane mist
she rubs on
the other side

spring rain
the scent of green in
the dawn breeze

february full moon
the beach tides deepen
the voice of children

spring moon
the scent of jasmine
spreading in the night


Spring sky, Cranes fly,
Mind’s eye,
In the dawn of spring sky, cranes flyway
In my path of bonsai, mind’s eye day!


With intention; aspire, prepare you!
With your deep prayers; mature, inspire, too.


Shall we, with will, practice service… now?
And with oneness notice justice… bow!