Short Poems


a granite rock
tickled with waves for years
now smiles
all over the sea shore.


In a winsome spring dawn;
when cosmos attest tranquility
An old owl awakens
with the whisper of pleasant morning breeze
and unfurls its sparkling eyes
to breathe some redolent flowers
dancing in the shrouded sun.


One night,
I stayed outside
moonstruck on the lunatic light
witnessing the fireflies disperse into darkness
wondering silver space filled with the ivory shades
dreaming and savouring the mosiac of crickets.

Next morning,
I discovered an eternal flame
and perpetual music inside.


Tired of swimming forlorn oceans
and unable to build a substantial bridge
Deliberately; I cocooned myself
This season,
when I will be out to fall in love with this world
the world itself will be in love with me
No longer, I will try
swimming those sequestered oceans
but will fly over the hedge.


Years I have spent,
caged behind these golden bars
dreaming sombre beaches and the murky skyline.

As I sit by the golden heaps of sand,
and think solely about my flapping wings
I wonder an unchained horizon.

Beside the obscure banks of river winding down
I feel the luscious scent of daffodils
in the wisp of bracing morning breeze.


A butterfly hungry of flowers
reaches for the exotic colours
reflected in the serene dew-drops
lies an illusive world inside
Butterfly reluctantly ridicules the serenity
Dew-drops patiently formulates an epic of struggles.

Destiny decides to end this recurring rivalry
and the sun instantly arise.


This cold peaceful night
the obscure stillness of wind
reminds me of you
singing aloof;
the tercets of an empty heart.


The half-naked autumn tree
tickled by the slow gust of wind
flutters its transparent leaves.
An audacious gale
envys the melodic rhythm
garnered by the hustling leaves.

Only a bare brown branch
hears the trumpet of its loss.


She is a dew-drop;
the nature’s alluring creation
a faintly touched splendour;
but enough.
Confined; the shape of flagon
Emancipated; a serene streamlet
calm, composed and tranquil.


A black crow in autumn
flies above the tangerine beach
Far below,
a ravenous hunter
discourteously portrays a falcon.

Hunter lost his only hope;the bird its life.


At the dusk,
I sat blankly on the beach
Looking at the tangerine splash of sunset.

And hoping
This would last forever.

I guess
something has happened to the horizon
It just went dark.

“Song of Demise”

An old nightingale
relinquished its wings
little by little
like the withered autumn leaves.

One by one
when the leaves began to revive
The weary bird in silence
sang its last springtide.

© Sabita Dangal


The pale autumn moon
Dribbles drop by drop
As fireflies.

In the silent hours of night,
Its deadly quiet
Except the sound of crickets.

In the silent forest,
Every breaths I take
Pierces the sound of silence.

A full moon night
Dribbles silver drops
Into the hibiscus leaf.

A petal swirls down the tree
In between
It reborns with fluttering wings.

Across the lake
Purple cloud resembled
An wavy bedsheet.

The august rain evaporates
In the purple cloud
All I see is a dispersed prism.

Short Poems

30th July, 2020



Decades I have hung
The faceless mirror into my room
A ray of light found its way inside
I found my eyes moist
In those drops,
Was a mirror with a reflection of strange face.

I guess that face isn’t mine.


Last night, I sat upon my moon filled window
Watching the silver leaves drop
Mositening the earth below
Each moment chanting peace
In the same rhythm,
I found silence
Dribbling a calm drop of awareness in me.


I ran within
Weary from the choas outside
Years later,
I found the same chaos in me.

Inside, it was calm
The perfect rhythm of planets playing orchestra
A music so serene
Like hymn creating a peaceful cosmos
Harmonizing with the nature itself.


Moistened by the faint mist
Lies the faceless mirror
A shadow wiped with my palm
The drops of memories remains.

Between the pause,
The old mirror still reflects everything.


I slept; decades passed by
Last night; I ran barefoot
Directionless in the spring light
The moon unaware dreamt whole night.

This morning,
I was blinded by a ray of light.


Searching him with all my strength
One night I swam tirelessly
On that forsaken lake again
Next morning,
I found myself ashore
Glistening in the sunlight
Loathed with the lunatic moonlight
Repressed memories
Formed scales of sand all over me.


They have all grown out of you
May you grow out of you
Its not me who gives you life
But, yourself
Its not the leaves that shed from trees
And fall on to you
They are shed out of you
Into you.

In between,
The air tickles some parts of you.


After moonsoon ends,
Leaves sing a song of emptiness
I too play a noteless paino
Piercing the leaves with its sound of rain.


By Sabita Dangal

“Emotional Turmoil”

By Sabita Dangal

2nd July 2020

“Emotional Turmoil”

He approached when I was the calm sea
and splattered evasive love all over me
Creating an obscure errand out of mysterious waves
He arosed a turmoil of emotions within me.

Perhaps! he was that treacherous Tsunami
Fluctuating the elusive waves erratically
He faded in an eloquent silence.

Now, I have been degraded to a lake
Everytime a stranger passes by
I am afraid of my own waves.


“If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.” -Stephen Fry


16th June 2020


Depression wakes up with a big broad smile
hiding behind the stillness of 3am
he quickly turns over the pillow
drenched with his moist voice last night.
He doesn’t know what to look for in the sunrise
Where we see hopes in the new dawn;
he remembers the sun was also dead at night
Where dew reminds us our ability of existence;
mistrust dribbles upon his life
All he feels is the rage of emotions brooding in the broad daylight.

Depression won’t approach with misery reflecting in the eyes
instead he will smile right back at you; feeling hopeless all the while
He won’t appear with a sad face; gloomy and doomed
Telling you how exactly depression feels like
He won’t explain how empty he feels
Haunted by darkness hovering over his life.

Vehemently, he kills his hope
and writes a suicide note
But, he won’t express that he is helpless
And you’re the only hope
He pretends the silence as calmness
Or, talks endlessly irritating you to the core
So, you will finally smirk and joke;
“Stop being soo childish”
“You pretend like an immature teenager”
“You are an adult now”
“Go get over it”
“Stop your overthinking, be happy”
” You are an amazing joke”

Depression doesn’t know how to classify the feels
But, fakes a smile; his words tightly sealed
He can’t measure that immense pressure of the clenched chest
But, he will surely tell he finds it hard to breathe
Depression tries to explain his emotions
Perhaps! one at a time
But, he is voiceless and unheard since a long time.

Depression can’t explain how misery howls in silence
in the quiet hours of night taking him far from life
He can’t express the scariest hollow soul
and his inability to join the dots
to fill the blanks of meaningless life
Unable to accept the fear of loneliness
Cheerful and brooding in the crowd
He doesn’t even know what emptiness feels like
Because he has never felt that before
How will the one who doesn’t know how he feels
seek help and make a joke out of his life?

By Sabita Dangal



14th April


-By sabita Dangal

🌼🌻🌼🌻🌼🌻🌼🌻🌼🌻🌼🌻 🌼



The rain fell all night long
Constantly dripping over my dreams
I wish you wake up drenched
To make sure
You were that one in my dreams.



I heard him calling my name
In whisper
That hummed imperishable love
Perhaps! this gush of wind had blown past him.



If you ever get lost
in the chaos of your dreams
I hope you remember
to cultivate a little strand of faith
I wish you grow a little glint of hope
in the fuzzy way of self-exploration
I hope you find that you of yourself
before you rush to get lost into your dreams.



I wish to wear the soul like moon
Caressing curves on empty new phases;
Some deep blue thoughts to embrace the flaws
Awakened when fully immersed on light
Satisfied with each phases of life
Unapproachable; not impossible
Similar but distinguished in crowd.


” Life “

Life is like the early morning dewdrops
Beholded in the edge of time
Fascinating when you’re awake to see
Disappears with the flush of sunbeam
Immersed in the vastness of space
The aurora of the first morning blush
Proceeds ahead within a moment
Playfully smitten by the chaos.

Life is like the dewdrops
There is whole alot at a time
And nothing at a blink.


“Ways of Life”

Every winter when the world is clad in white
I leave my home in search of a strange life
Beholded by a stranger,
A passerby
I travel the exotic places flown in the rhythm
Blown by the wind
The ones at my home
The leaves; green and tangerine
They don’t know autumn is coming
They’ll age into brown
And fall to the ground.

In the apt of colourful life I’ve seen
The colourful world, where I live
I’m still young and travelling
The destinations I thought I’d never see
I swing in the world of fascination
And dance in the rhythm of words
This autumn, when they’ll be falling to the ground
Sucked out of life
I will be folded neatly between the words,
tucked behind the magnificent pages of a bookworm.

Just in case, if you don’t know
I’ll tell you, how to live a life.



Dear blue,
You’re like that book
I keep on revising over and over again
Not because
I don’t understand the chemistry between us
But, with a zeal to swim in the depth of you.



Two misfits at the cafe corner table
One immersed in the stacks of self-help books
And other drowned in music
humming ‘Beautiful People’
Perhaps! destiny had to play this trick
The two different tables stayed carefree
Transfixed on the opposite corners of globe.



Hold me with forevers
Like the dusk caresses the sunbeams
Hugging through the canvas; painted with our memories.

Meet me at the sunsets
When horizon engulfs that burning ball
Blending itself in the hopeful prism of colours

I will find you dispersed
Reflecting tangerine sunsets
In the horizon of my obscure memories.



“I don’t write poems anymore”

By: Sabita Dangal

16th February, 2020

“I don’t write poems anymore”

These days,
I let my thoughts flow free
I don’t bother to pause them
And ask,” Do you want to be written?”
I don’t even try to scribble
to copy those silly waves of convictions.

The subtle braid of words;
puzzles transiently into my thought process
I don’t try to combine
those witty events into a senergy
And translate the repressed moments
into a rhythm of words
The opressed feelings,
are now being long lamented.

I still remember,
How I hugged those beliefs passing away
when moments waned
aimlessly through my thought process
How I envisioned every thoughts in reverse
just to end up
pasting it meaningless
How I playfully recited it
all over and again
until it actually made sense.

Now, I let my thoughts flow free
They ramble uninterrupted;
into the horizon of my lame imagination
I let my thoughts wander,
unbiased into the perception
And, my feelings;
turn meaningless into the moments

Now, I quit
I quit my naive attempts
to compose a cheesy piece of poetry
Because, you know
I don’t write poems anymore
But, I dare
I dared to live a few of them.


By: Sabita Dangal


I still have that rose
Neatly tucked
Pressed between the faded pages
of my favourite old diary.
Knowingly, I kept those pages blank
So, we could fill it with newer memories
Like the dried rose between the pages years after
Your memories have also been desiccated now.

Your love was just like that faded page
That waned me from my favourite routines
The stains there
Are still embroidered like regrets
But, the dry withered petals
Still has the mark of your lips
The fragnance of your breath in there
Still droops your presence.

Everytime that page in my diary reveals
You are still smiling in there
Waiting to be forgiven
Waiting to be forgotten
Perhaps! we can forgive people of how they treat us
We can forgive ourselves for letting them treat that way
Like that withered rose in my diary, never bloomed to its best
I hope it forgives us for treating her that way.


By: Sabita Dangal


I wish you don’t have to feel this way
Like all that has just started is now at the dreadful end
Wretched, withered and blown
As if you’ve just outgrown that mischief relation
Drowned and running aimlessly in love again.

I hope you don’t have to feel this way
Like you’ve just been hugged by an ill-starred luck
Helpless, hapless and doomed
As if you’ve just losed your only hope
Betrayed and hopelessly developing trust again.

I pray you don’t have to feel this way
Like you’re that obnoxious mystery to be solved
Dumb, drifted and complicated
As if your next step is another mistake
Engulfed in regrets and resurfacing to damned life again.



I stand there clueless
Beneath the golden reflection
The radiance of yellow pasted
In the pastel of orange and tangerine
I adore that sparkling glamorous beauty
As much as I fancy the gurgling waves in silence.

Perhaps! I am in love with that feeling
When I see that happy yellow sprinkled
In the nature’s canvas; that golden horizon
Or just adores that calm me at sunsets
That forgets how hectic the day was like.

At the end of the day,
I am in love with myself
And all those souls that admires
That adores the soft paint in the evening sky
Recharging all the tumbling cascades of life
And every decisions I’ve made

Because, I know
I have always followed my heart at the dusks
Like the sun chose to dissolve between the waves
And never regrets
I can never be unhappy for the decisions
I made at sunsets.