She wrote a poem.

She once wrote a poem

About the desires,

The aspirations

That occupied the recesses of her mind

When she was both conscious and unconscious

They came after her, lurking in her dreams

Telling her to chase them with all her might

For you can’t wait for tomorrow

While the present moment fleets past unseemingly..

© Devangana




Sometimes, just sometimes

My mind wanders off far far away

To distant lands of fervour and glory

Where I would find something waiting

Something hitherto unseen, unheard of

Beautiful meadows full of blossoms

Of colours bright and beautiful

No man can feel even the slightest dullness

In such an environment


Don’t we all wish to attain that perfect sense of harmony and nirvana?

© Devangana Bose

Under water

I hold my breath

The flowing, meandering waves encompass my very being

A heaviness descends upon my being as I make my way through the depths of the ocean

Miles and miles of crystal clear reflections

I feel it hit my skin and make me feel alive once again.

Because before, i seemed to have lost my senses

In that depth, that abyss

Of the deep dark ocean.

© Devangana Bose


She writes.

She writes

To relieve herself of the pain

The immense weight of the world.

To give voice to all the trapped emotions, the feelings, the unsaid

The misunderstood

All that was left to be told, to be shouted

But couldn’t.

There she lies in wait

Of something to come, a miracle of sorts

To set her free

From all worldly constraints, problems

And ugly truths.

Her name is hope.

And she is that four-lettered word.


Mr. Moon- a poem


The moon shines bright

In the dark of the night

Beckoning it’s beholders to dream

Of lovely days in purple haze

Sitting and wondering

What is it that life’s worth?

“Look at my craters”, says Mr. Moon

They run wide and deep

And so shall you be filled with them

And the rewards of life you shall reap.

Oh tell me, Moon-y

What is it like, to shine in the light of another?

“you let them shine”, says he to me

Till you find your own kind of lover.