Welcome to ‘The Pocket Diaries’ a global platform for every talent, a suburb for passions palpitating beneath the thick layers of necessities and indeed an initiative to unfold innumerable hidden talents forth you. 

A peculiar concept to bring your dreams to existence by providing you the very platform you always dreamt off. An opportunity to publish your works worldwide and indeed an
endeavour to provide you a ‘mysa’ in this contemporary incessant world.

Lens, Photography

Taj Mahal

What is widely considered as the most beautiful building in the world, Taj Mahal is located in the historical city of Agra.It was built by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan as a memorial for his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Constructed entirely out of white marble in the 17th century, it is among the finest edifices of Mughal architecture.
Poetry, Quill

We’ve Met Before…

I do believe we’ve met before…

In the middle of the street, I saw you walk,
We locked eyes for some time, then I drove away,
Your entire journey had brought you here,
To look at me as I held your gaze,
What tears you’ve cried, I’ll never know,
What made me smile, you’ll never see,
As night falls and our minds are flushed,
You cross my mind like a summer breeze,
We’ll never meet, in the lives we have left,
As we sit here thinking, in our lonely balconies,
In silence, we both gaze at the streets beneath,
Perils, of the same old broken heart,
In the same old city, we shall fall asleep,
Yet our worlds exist two lives apart,
Both alive, but never in our memories…

Poetry

Eyes

Through the lights of sky

I saw the colour of his eyes

With hues of grey

Rose the scariest storm of mighty dusk

Speck of moon rising in those eyes

Beholding a warning of ruthless love

And I saw it all

I saw how it was possible

To get so lost in those wicked eyes

Art, Brush

PLEASE

Cold skin, drag my feet on the tile
As I’m walking down the corridor
I’m slipping through the cracks of your cold embrace
So please, please..
Poetry, Quill

A Seed of Love

A seed of love planted deep in the heart
Its roots steadily seizing the entire part.

The first leaf arose with a new beat
Short, soft and sweet.

The first bud arrived with the first titter
Introducing to a being, as sparkly as glitter.

And as the bud bloomed, so did the soul
Begetting a new whole.

I was born this way
I was born of love
And you,
Were too.


Poetry

Disenchanted Disgrace

What vigour remains,
In an ever motive world,
When metal mammoths,
Are reduced to cars,
And swing sets rust,
Under the sun,
When the enchanted eyes,
Of a curious child,
Are reduced to an adult’s,
Tired little gaze,
When birds flying by,
Aren’t magical,
What a useless,
Disenchanted disgrace.