Under the Thriving Brown

I was bounded by the soil, when they buried me deep.
For years I was undisturbed,
Then one day he woke me up, from the profound sleep.

I think its sunset, I sense he is around…
I wait like I constantly do,
Under the thriving brown.

He writes poetries and sometimes he narrates them to me,
I just nod or smile in approval,
I am not even sure he ever perceives…

I know so much about him, and that he doesn’t know,
I know who crushed his heart,
The girl he planned to propose.

He always sits on a bench tarnished with age,
Sometimes he sits on the grass and
Plays with its blades.

I wonder if he knows, that I exist too,
I have always loved him,
Maybe not in form, but in a different hue…

He is withdrawn, and hardly stable.
There is much pain in his prose,
Makes him distant and unapproachable…

On some days I have wanted to come out of hiding,
To tell him, how good he is, but I can’t…
My soul will follow him through but my being shan’t!

I was bounded by the soil, when they buried me deep.
For years I was undisturbed,
Then one day he woke me up, from the profound sleep.

He doesn’t know yet, that he sits on a grave,
I don’t intend to scare him, I feel he is brave,

I know he won’t fancy a carcass with no name,
But this deceased heart will still admire him,
With absolutely no aim!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

Trying to understand my Baby girl

Poem on mother

I have so much to learn, she has so much to teach,

Her tiny grasp, & the world still out of reach…

She teaches silently, with eyes that shine like enstatite,

She notices everything acutely, she happens to have a keen sight

How her smile transforms into questions,

How she abhors what dissuades her, with apparent objection,

She’s not easy but intricate

Sometimes I read her like a passage and

Sometimes she is nothing less than an adage…

I wasn’t always strong, but she inspires me to be

She gives me that inconceivable strength

That only superhuman feel…

She trusts me more than I trust myself,

Makes me feel like I have finally excelled …

I don’t know if I was anything before she came,

She has added colours in the monochrome frame…

We will understand each other more,

As life unfolds itself,

Till then we’ll observe each other and try to comprehend as much as we can!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya


Stuck in Time

A manuscript, and a glass of wine,

I had lost the track of time…

Surreal moments, broken tides,

I knew there was no haven to hide

My tears dry,

The pain still sharp…

I was stuck in a time warp..

My make-believe world,

Finally collapsed,

My unclothed soul, stood,

Unadorned, unabashed….

The dwellings changed and the people too,

Some consciously remained mute…

My life came to a halt, and the

Surroundings were covered by the murky fog,

Limbs paralysed, eyes wide

The senses numb,

Nowhere to run.

This is a lost fight,

It won’t get any better,

I have lost the place,

Now nothing really matters…

I have realized now,

I can’t change the future,

My world challenged,

More pain will follow…

Now, I am collecting figments,

That fragmented in the crash….

I am saving as many,

To remember the moments that, once were planned.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya


Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya