The Secret

Once in a blue moon,
I take out an old picture of myself
just to check how many wrinkles I’ve added
since I crossed happy days

Once in a blue moon,
I try to recollect just what you whispered
into my ears as we made love
but all that echos is the crack of a sharp slap across my face

Once in a blue moon,
I drink wine from the flute
just to remind myself that its cracked, sharp edge
can no longer press against my throat as I’m backed far up against the wall

Once in a blue moon,
I use my silver brush to smoothen my silver strands
They lost their dark colour too soon, but my dark secret…
that will last my lifetime and a little more

Once in a blue moon,
I walk downstairs into the cellar
to check for the stench of yesterday
but the rats seem to have wiped away every inch of you!

Urban Pigeon holes and Poverty



Living in pigeon holes

boxed in with closed doors

Restricted, obstructed, constricted views

Brightly painted doors for happy beginnings

Cities that lure with their fake promises

playing with real lives

Too hungry to refuse, they play along with a hope

Someday, that door will open

like a dream come true

but to where, no one really knows

Why do they fall prey anyway?

What difference does it make to pigeons

what colour the door of their prison is!






Human Still

I’m at that age
Where my bones hurt more than my heart
Or is it vice-versa?
Why dwell on that, I’m living life playing my part

I’m at that age
Where my clock runs… slower than theirs
Them I see whizzing by
With furrowed brows, entwined in worldly affairs

I’m at that age
Where sleeplessness doesn’t correspond to burning ambitions
I don’t count stars no more, nor try to reach them
The math I do… is more subtractions, less additions

But, I’m still not the age
Where the rising sun does not bring wonder
Where a tender touch fails to calm my soul
I’m human still, no I’m still not going under!

Checking Things By Posting an Old Poem


Can you smell the stench… of festering beliefs
in the murky cesspool of your mind?
As daughter after daughter after daughter
falls. Ah! But you can’t hear, you’re deaf and blind!

There’s acid on her soul with a flick of your wrist
The wretch, your advances did try to resist
Your dagger, it glitters as your sister’s blood spills
exactly as patriarchy demanded and wills
It’s your honour you defend cause obviously, she has none
You’ll find her and hunt her, she has nowhere to run!
Don’t leave her alone even in the womb
The moment you smell her, send her to her tomb
She likes to dress nice, she’s sugar and spice
She must be ravaged, your lust she’s enticed!

Scoff now and tell me, I speak of folklore
these are ancient stories, you heard of before
Then why as I walk in the DARKNESS alone
My heart is a pounding, I’m clutching my phone?
My heart is a pounding, I’m clutching my phone!


Hellow Fellow Marathoners! I’m Manoshi from India. This is my first time, and all of this right now seems rather overwhelming. I think I feel a case of acute online stage fright coming up! 😀 I do love playing with words and have been a closet writer from a very young age. It’s only very recently that I’ve come out and shared my poems publically. So, what better than a half marathon to carry me the distance I want to go with my writing. Waiting eagerly to see all of you. I’m going to be cheering hard for everyone, and hoping that a few of you would do the same for me!