Poetry Palette

….where the muses flirt….


Ilustratii- A Quest

I’m In Love With My Incomplete Life

Life is so incomplete

And I’m in love with it.


There is always that little something

A missing jigsaw piece

A poem incomplete

A novel half read

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life.


There is always that folksy someone

An uncertain ‘see-you-later’

A dialogue flawed halfway

A wit not caught

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life.


There is always that special place

A Bohemian dream never seen

An idyllic blue calling again

A native green rushing by

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life.


There is always that delicate heartstring

A flaming bond, fiery red,

An unrequited love, spoken unspoken

A brimming silence, lost words

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life


There is always a little more,

A hope, a smile, a touch, a dial,

A little more to reach out for

A little more to live out for

A little incompleteness, a little more

And I’m so much in love

In love with my incomplete life



-Nisha Prabhakar

Ilustratii- A confession

Dragoste: I may have played with words.

Speranta: You have. Always.

Dragsote: But I do feel for you. Maybe more than I realize.

Speranta: The unsaid leaves a strain of pinching pain.

Dragoste: I wish I could tell you how much I love you.

Speranta: Why don’t you?

Dragoste: I can never take you.

Speranta: Does it matter? Does love always have to see fulfillment?

Dragoste: Doesn’t it?

Speranta: I can live in the searing pangs of never having you.

Dragoste: Aren’t you already? Don’t you want to know why?

Speranta: It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

Dragoste: Maybe in another life….

Speranta: This is the only life.

Dragoste: Time will take take me away from you.

Speranta: Time can only do so much. There is a corner in every heart that Time cannot impale.

Dragoste: Dear….

Speranta: Yes….

Dragoste: I love you

Speranta: And that is all that matters..

Just To Shake You Up

Nirbhaya came and went,

A little girl since passed by,

Another has come, searching for a name,

Then dropped in some more,

And then many more,

And waiting for yet lots more


It isn’t of religion,

Not about caste or gender,

Of colour or creed.

It’s just that we like to come,

Once every while

To shake your conscience,

And wake your impasse.


Now off you go

We’re stale news, already,

Dust your couches, swell with pride

At the difference your voices have made,

Go, go take a break,

For there’s still time,

One of us….. has just been taken!
-Nisha Prabhakar

Don’t Walk With Me

Don’t walk with me.

You are my sanity.




In the crushing agony

You were my solitary hope.


The ground beneath me.

Nursing my blood

Perpetually betrayed

At the hide’s end.



I love you

But you ache

Upon my vulnerable eyes

Knowing I’ll walk away,

To give you

Your dreamscapes

To embrace

My nettles.



I need no more

Than your frail waft.

You have shores

To explore

More shells

To pick

So wherever you go

Don’t hold out for me.



Whatever you do

Don’t come back to me.




You are my sanity

But don’t walk with me.


– Nisha Prabhakar


Ilustratii – In their own Dreams

Speranta: You are just a post away

Dragoste: Yet too long a distance

Speranta: Hardly. In my heart

Dragoste: The heart can be deceptive

Speranta: It is

Dragoste: Will we ever see?

Speranta: No

Dragoste: Are you scared?

Speranta: My dreams could be shattered

Dragoste: Could

Speranta: Which is a dangerous proposition

Dragoste: Why would they have to be shattered at all?

Speranta: You’ll leave.

Dragoste: …….

Speranta: …….

Dragoste: Yes

Speranta: Then I love you more in the distance

Dragoste: The magical world

Speranta: The magic

Dragoste: Your bubble again.

Speranta: Always.


-Nisha Prabhakar


I am no more a man than you, save for a WO

All that means is a difference just like you

Yet I’m dice, in the numbers you decide

To rape me and leave, or thrust me to kill

You come in many, with rods and rackets

To push in the pain and pull out my veins

Till the dull stakes are a mangled mess

Filling in me the grime of gratitude

For killing my womb, leaving no chance

To ever birth any more like you

– Nisha Prabhakar

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