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a sexagenarian, loves the feel of paper and pen to scribble whatever is churned out from the brain. Published author, reviewer, blog writer.

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  • puchka 2d

    Only those who read poems
    Only those who chew over each line
    masticating each word as if savoring
    each thought and its deeper meaning
    can appreciate the words of poets
    A poem should therefore strike
    the heart, make it bleed, make it hurt,
    make it like a creamy tart to awaken
    all the senses, even make one laugh

    Poems should not be swallowed like pills
    Poems are meant to be nibbled
    like one nibbles on a lover's ears
    Poems should not disturb the mind
    they are meant to heal the sick,
    act as bandaid to patch up tiffs
    Poems should not propagate rebel
    rather smoothen minds roughened
    bring peace and let wars cease

    Poems should sound like music
    Poems are therapeutic
    © Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 3d


    You have been in existence
    throughout and down the ages
    First heard with a new born's cry
    Music to a Mother's ears
    waiting to hear over last nine months
    gives an instant high

    You soothe broken hearts
    with your notes created by the surf
    rising, falling, flattening, just
    as any musical instrument does
    and when the mind turns restless
    you calm it with the breeze whistles

    You are in all the elements,
    You are in the voice of the Koel,
    the Maina, hummingbird, the Cardinal
    Sing early morning ragas musical
    to lift souls in deep distress
    You are all pervading musical mistress

    O why do we turn to the gramophone
    O why do we turn to YouTube
    O why do we put on our blue tooth
    You are there ever present in our
    surroundings, in our moods; ears
    needs to pick up the tunes

    © Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 3d

    Specks of grit in both my eyes
    Do you think I can't
    see the truth?
    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 4d

    La vie est belle
    If you find your inner equilibrium
    then settle for nothing less
    Le temps passe
    So N'oublie pas de vivre
    And more importantly love yourself
    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 4d

    I am just being myself, seeking some

    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 1w

    My devotion bordering on obsession
    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 1w

    Once upon a time there were fairies
    in humans, full of compassion,
    holding the magic wand to heal
    the broken. They were dressed
    in white long tunics with black veils,
    eyes blue as the ocean; they had
    flown in from a distant land to
    teach us the English language.
    Yes..they were the Irish Nuns,
    who stayed here and on Indian
    soil lie buried. No less than any
    imaginary fairy.
    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 1w

    I love to be with you
    I love that you care for me
    I love that we sometimes fight
    I love that we make up before night
    I love that we do things together
    I love that we are made for each other
    I love the way you laugh
    I love the way your lips curl up
    I love your salt and pepper hair
    I love that how much I pull, it never tears
    I love that we are growing old
    I love to wake up every morning with you
    I love to hold your hands
    I love that our friendship will forever stand
    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 1w


    You guessed right love the dark nights
    with the power lines down
    finding my way with candlelight
    Noiselessly climbing down the staircase
    heading towards the moonlit kitchen
    Opening the refrigerator door to help
    myself to the bowl of half filled jello
    Ah! how I love the wobbly stuff
    topped with whipped cream and nuts
    Alas to my misfortune power came on
    Darcy on the window sill meowed
    creating a ruckus that had hubby out
    Standing at the head of the staircase
    with a frown, as if to say "caught with
    your hand in the cookie jar....unfair
    let's share that bowl as agreed upon'!
    Alas! That was not to happen
    Darcy swooped down to participate
    in the dark night's refrigerator forage.
    Merrily licking his whiskers and paws
    sliding across the creamy white floor
    splattered with my raspberry jello!
    ©Snigdha Agrawal

  • puchka 1w

    Evertime she would visit
    I would try to wriggle
    out of her clutches
    Her snot wet kisses
    repulsed me to no extent.
    But then I was too little
    and obeyed my parents
    to return grandma's kisses
    ©Snigdha Agrawal