Valley Tunes

Under the cool shade
of pomegranate trees,
life drifts sluggishly,
tugging a sunlit afternoon.

I love the patterns,
leaves draw upon my skin.
Of coffee-coloured watermarks,
stippled by the breeze.

My ruled open diary
is ready to be filled,
with unlimited unruly poems
of dramatized daily musings.

Birdsong garnished
with the buzz of bees,
rebounds in a distant echo
from the dust green vale,
where a lazy town sits tucked in.

Mountain trails take me along…
nowhere but just here,
to dwell in this fluttering symphony
of a thousand valley tunes.

:: I found this poem scribbled in my diary on one sun filled mountain-top afternoon in the pomegranate orchard at Al Hamra, Oman, during our Eid break .

Sometimes it feels like life is going nowhere in particular. That's when we need feel-good poems to envelope us in a safe loving dreamy embrace.  Things will unfold in their own time. Have faith in yourself...Until then, enjoy the summer!

:: Pomegranate Orchard ::

:: Handwritten draft of the poem :: 

What's a Poem?

When a grey cloudy roaring sky,
suddenly turns crisp blue
and whistles with the wind,
a poem is born…

When you were all prepared
for a rough hectic day ahead,
but it turned out to be
much softer and sunnier instead.

A poem is that little moment
tucked between two happy thoughts.
It's the stamp of time just when
a fluid darkness spills into dawn.

When you couldn't sleep all night,
it's the blanket of warmth,
that feels like a full deep slumber,
with a dream, minutes before you woke up.

A poem is the correct shade of pink,
slightly brighter and richer,
than your natural lip colour,
which makes your smile better than usual.

When you remember old days,
and quietly nod to yourself…
Someone looks back from the mirror,
reassuring, you've come a long way.

A poem is hidden
in a sleepy snail shell,
waiting to be picked up on a rainy day,
by muddy little playful fingers.

It's the song that shadows write
on blank sunny white walls,
listening to the leaves and birds,
as they turn it into a mural.

A poem is a doodle in my diary,
scribbled somewhere on idle pages,
amidst awkward pauses of work meetings,
for a quick refresh of my mind.

Between the last bronze of the sun
and the first pearl drop of the moon,
there is always a poem,
peeping in and out along silver linings.

:: This poem was written for poetry reading events and workshops for school children, lined up for this summer at the School Book Fairs, that I was supposed to be a part of.  I wanted to teach the children, how a collection of beautiful thoughts can become a poem! Unfortunately, because of the current situation of the world, schools are on distance learning and these sessions got cancelled.  This poem remains in my mind as a bouquet of quietly beautiful things, to refresh the mind and bring back some positivity . 

This poem is inspired by the question in the picture book "This is a Poem That Heals Fish" by Jean-Pierre Simeon", translated into English by Claudia Zoe Bedrick. I got a glimpse of the book on 'the marginalian' by Maria Popova :: 

Rise

Can you feel the silvery pull
of the full moon tonight,
realizing that it would
be gone by tomorrow…

Can you wish upon
one in many of a falling star,
knowing, it will vanish
just in a blink.

Adorned with red leaves,
the almond tree standing tall,
does not weep when
She sheds them all.

The robins know
their leafy seasonal home,
will be bare for a while,
until the spring sprouts in welcome.

Can you marvel
the seagulls in graceful flight,
sensing, they will disappear
as the winter goes out of sight.

Can you follow the light, unattached, 

walk silently like the wind,
not leaving behind 

a sandy imprint?

The fact that things change,
is the reason that moves us within.
When the chase is over,
real appreciation begins.

I can exist
without claiming,
fall off when I feel complete,
without the illusion of ownership.

I can bloom as breath,
rebuilding a life,
that knows and nurtures
who I am about to become…

#bloomfromwithin  #selfseek  #knowwhoyouare #rise

:: "The Path"@Bali 2025 ::

One Quiet Day

Keep one quiet day
just for yourself,
to stare at the blank blue sky
through the windward window.
Bring back the effervescent hope
into a hardened heart.

I am able to love
and open to receiving,
when all my pieces
fit in the right place.
Keep that one fulfilling day,
to become wholesome again.

Heal yourself first,
to be a care-giving mother,
and a creative partner;
all roles that go amiss.
when the one precious day
gets mixed with the mundane.

I want to listen to what spaces speak.
Curtains whisper sweet nothings
to the sleepy leaves.
Her playful eyes come alive
as she walks a lazy gait.
I hope to find her here again …

Bedsheets echo patterns of the vines,
bamboo lamps jive with the breeze.
I want to be in this frame!
Take me home, O shaded lanes…

to that one secret day
I have kept aside just to be myself!

Portal of Midlife

The portal of midlife,
is a delicate difficult junction,
of change and challenges.
Lets give each other
another chance
to greet our older selves
with new eyes.
Hold my hand
and cross this threshold together…
Let’s renew “our space” again.

Over the years we have learnt, there cannot be two alphas in a relationship. When both partners have a strong individual identity, they often need to balance between playing alpha and beta as per the need of their life’s situation.

Marriage and Family cannot be an individual championship. It's a team sport, where each member needs to play at multiple positions.

When one partner gets to enjoy the limelight of playing center forward, the other partner shall guard the goal and play goalkeeper, at times filling in to be the defender as well. Grown up children eventually step in to play at mid level, helping both partners as required.

Currently, I think I am the goal keeper and sometimes, the referee. I got my chance to play center forward and be in the limelight. I will give the boys a chance to shine now at their positions.

Generally, males are programmed to have more 'doing’ energy while females to have more of a ‘receiving’ energy. If the woman has very strong beliefs and opinions, she sometimes needs to deliberately switch on her receiving energy in a marriage yet continue her 'giving energy’ in a family.

This is the delicate challenge that midlife presents in a marriage. As we count 19 years of married life, it's the portal of midlife which we must cross carefully together, helping each other along the way.

I hope this year steers us to the direction that aligns with our life’s true purpose.

:: Our 19th Anniversary pictures began at the Lempuyang Temple , Bali this Spring,  but the real celebration was a cycle ride date night in Abu Dhabi. We went to the posh hotel on our cycles, had a drink at the rooftop bar that windy evening in September and then cycled back, me, wearing a dress with trainers and a helmet, French style! This has been my favourite so far! Perfectly age-appropriate!:: 

:: Lempuyang Temple, Bali :: 

:: The Portal of Midlife ::

Unveiled

Radiant, shining, bright.
She looked dazzling that night.
Blushing in a reddish gold sari
like a newly wed bride.

But the wicked darkness cast an evil eye
and trapped her in a thick black spell.
She prayed in silence
for the dense fog to unveil.

Soon the veil began to shift
from one phase to the other.
Her shine was still intact,
but unrevealed to the world.

As the long cursed hour passed,
from childhood to youth
then motherhood to mid life,
all stories flashed across her eyes.

When times are uncertain,
one needs to stay calm and pause.
Our aura isn't all lost,
It's only under wraps.

Blurring the lines
between what truly exists
and what can be perceived,
is an eclipse, waiting to lift.

And when that closed door slides open
our old vibrant self
will rise again in the vast sky
to glow like the full moon!

:: Inspired by the Lunar Eclipse on the night of September 7th. :: 

#lunareclipse #celestialwonders #quiethappinesstasha #takeapause 

Hero the Hare

At school we were taught the story of the Hare and the Tortoise. We were always told how slow and steady wins the race. We never questioned, why do we need to win the race in the first place?

As a little girl, I was moody, restless, impatient and impulsive. I would want to finish my work before everyone else in the class and then I would ask the class teacher, “May I draw”? in the leftover time. She would always urge me to check my work once again and then allow me to draw. All I was interested in, was drawing.

The explanation in my head was, I finish my work fast only to have that golden time to enjoy drawing … doing what I love!

Hence, in the Hare and the Tortoise story, I would find myself defending the Hare, even though he lost the race in the end. He ran fast so he could afford to have the golden time for that nap under the tree! So what if the Tortoise went ahead. What if you actually enjoy taking that lead only so that you can get your well deserved break later!

Now I have come to realize, the Hare has been my hero. It's not about winning or losing, but about knowing your strengths and using them in the right way, to find that precious me-time along the way to do what you love.

I want to be fast and swift when I can and finish my responsibilities, only to be able to get life’s sweet sabbatical after all the hard work. I want to switch myself off when I wish to. There is more to life than winning races. I want to savor my power nap in the woods…and then get ready to run again as needed.

#metime #dowhatyoulove #againstburnout #goldentime #welldeservedbreak 

Refill

As long as the stream is flowing,
fill up your cup.
Don't look back.
The other option 
was never that different.
Watch the same movie
over and over again.
Each time freshly eyeballed,
to sieve out hidden nuances.
It was never about finishing first,
but about attempting the new.
Go on, unstoppable.
Keep refilling… 
Until it's done.

:: Bali 2025: Tukad Cepung Waterfall  ::

 

Travel Light

When Death came
knocking at her front door…
“You’ll live a hundred years, she said,
I was just thinking about You”

Surprised, yet calm,
He replied,
Go pack your bags.
We leave soon.

I’m ready, she committed.
No excess baggage.
Home is left far behind.
I carry a fulfilled life.

No tears, regrets none.
Now there’s no looking back.
Into my last journey,
I travel LIGHT…

#fouryearssince  #rememberingourmother #alwaysinourhearts #theflowerlady #whensheleft 

Sunrise Seagull

Take a pause. Breathe.
Feel the aura at sunrise.
The sky reflects a pink-orange blush
as the Earth gives birth to her Sun.

Seagulls in slow steady flight
are flocking in celebration of the newborn.
Hurried haphazard roads unaware of the drama,
against the calm graceful gait of Nature.

I stand on the edge
as Life pulls me onto the faster track.
My mind longs to step back
and take the leisure trail instead.

Just then my gaze catches
a lone young seagull.
He flies solitarily with light on his wings,
away from the crowd.

His quiet determination, powerful motion,
spells a magical freedom.
Reminds me, Life’s tugs and pulls
are not without a larger reason.

:: The Landscape Architect , yet again, has stepped up to take care of the Poet and the Artist residing in me. She knows, passion alone is not enough to refill Life’s half full cup. But on a quiet Saturday afternoon, the Poet slowly rises and pours life force back into her tired soul…::

The best part of UAE winters is the migratory birds, especially seagulls that stay until the beginning of spring. Watching the seagulls in their slow steady graceful flight on these winter mornings is truly inspiring. Reminds me of Jonathan Livingston Seagull… one of the first few books I read growing up.

The Wind will Carry Us

This year hasn't really gone the way I had imagined at the beginning. But that's exactly why I have learnt some important lessons. Life is unpredictable. Change is constant. We can never really plan our life. “The Wind Will Carry Us”--- just like the Iranian movie I watched earlier this year.

Even though things took a different route, I am thankful for many turns that my life has taken. I am proud of the fact that I stood up for what I believe in yet again. I went back to myself and continued to believe in my abilities, even though my belief system was slightly shaken. My priorities have changed. I want to focus on refilling my cup.

Honestly, I found some answers to profound questions of life while I was running the 5km marathon! This time, not just my husband and my older son, but my younger son also zoomed ahead of me during our yearly winter marathon. I had decided to keep a slow and steady constant speed and not stop at all, just calmly finish the race at my own pace. And I did exactly that. Who would have thought that running a marathon could be a spiritual experience! But it can be, when one finds their own track, pace, mind frame and the wind on the correct side!

Aren't we all running this marathon of life! Our pace and our fellow runners keep changing, but the race continues. The race is to finish well and complete our responsibilities , not to come first!

In November when I lost my cat, Rumi it reminded me of everything I have lost thus far. But one extremely satisfying experience was when my husband and I actually found another neighbour’s lost cat! I watched the woman reunite with her cat and found inexplicable peace. She gave me a hug and told me she had not slept that night and I completely understood what that meant! Has there been a single night I have not thought of Rumi! Then I thought of the concepts of “absence” and “union” from the Rubaiyat of poet Rumi…750 years of absence, eight centuries of presence!

I received my first Royalty for my poetry book, Amaira the little woman. I cannot put a price on that! Its the feeling of finally calling myself a published poet!  I had one gold and one silver pendant made for my precious Rudraksha beads, from that money to make the event immortal, just like the picture of Rumi, my kohl-eyed kitty on the pages of my book, Amaira…

Around Christmas, one of our neighbours had invited us to decorate their tree. We made ‘plans’ for a Secret Santa and cake. Their older son was to visit them for Christmas. But little did anyone know, that life had already made some other plans for him…and their family. I say with a heavy heart, there was no party. Only prayers, moist memories…and a shocking realisation...What is the meaning of life after losing a loved one!

We dream of having the whole perfect cake to ourselves, to decorate it, have it and eat it too… But sometimes all we are left with are two little pieces to call our own. Even then, let's be grateful for what’s on our plate. Those two pieces are enough.

When we plan to watch the splendid meteor shower, all set and ready to go, just like the previous years, this time the sky suddenly seems completely cloudy. The moon is full. We cannot even see the moon, forget the meteor shower! Then what do we do? This is Life. We can just sit out on the terrace instead, with a cup of warm cocoa, because my most favourite wine is also finished! I say, it's okay. The wind will carry us…yet again…into another New Year!

:: The Wind Will Carry Us is a 1999 Iranian film written and directed by Abbas Kiarostami. It is one of my favourite Irani films ::

Wings of Stone

Our flight most times
is weighed down, delayed,
by the emotional luggage
we carry on our shoulders.

The heavy black handbag
full of ‘what-if’ obsessions
and ‘just -in -case’ compulsions,
wants more than it needs…

Wings are spread wide open,
but why do they feel so heavy?
Like the elephant’s tusks,
well flaunted, yet defunct.

While I want to celebrate
life’s gifts and little wins,
It's the losses that stab
and keep holding me back.

Each year is a mixed bag - - -
of opposites, that sit together, chitchatting.
Hits that lift up to cloud nine;
Misses that bring us down to the earth.

In the end, the mind has gone
on a yearly tour
and returned,
to the exact same starting point.

For the one who loses his way in the morning,
but comes home by evening,
is not lost after all…
Just a year older, perhaps wiser!

:: Sutjeska Memorial, Bosnia & Herzegovina ::

Through Thick and Thin

Eighteen years ago, 

the delicate golden rings we exchanged,
have now turned into thick robust copper bands!

#eighteenyearstogether #throughthickandthin #happyanniversary #souvenirsfromsarajevo 

Reject Me!

She thought she could reject me,
because her position allows her
to chop off aspiring wings,
she fears, may take higher flight!

He thought he could reject me
because I fought for my rightful window seat
and didn't just silently settle for the dark aisle…

She thought she could reject me
because my skin is of a different shade
and my language not the same as hers…

He thought he could reject me
because I have a strong opinion,
I'm not scared to voice…

They thought they could reject me,
without even getting to know me better!
Judging me like the toads from that well,
looking through a mediocre lens---
that small circle of the gray sky,
they think, is the whole world…

You can reject me,
for being who I am, wherever I go.
Can you, for once, be who you really are?
I may lag behind on my way,
but I know how to climb back up.

Reject me, for not being
what you expect me to be.
But you cannot break me!

I'll never reject myself
for not fitting into your convenient ideas
of how those around you shall be like…
I reject you instead!

:: Sometimes, one bad experience at the workplace or in our circle of acquaintances,  is enough to trigger all those similar ones from our past, we've been carrying deep inside our subconscious minds. That's when we need to go back to ourselves and hold our own hand. Each of us will find a way to fit in perfectly in our niche ::

I Am...

I am a flowering tree,
and I bloom with sunlight.
But is it your closed dark mind
that needs the light of truth?

You are the big stone in a stream
held by helpless yes-men around you.
I am that playful gush of water.
Does my free flow shake your existence?

I am the wind of change,
you're scared to open the window for…
Lest it may uncover insecure demons
snaking inside you…

The mirror of reality,
you've been avoiding for long…
Show it to the grumpy man-child inside
that sits sulking and stomping his feet.

My beliefs, firmly rooted in this earth
may crush the walls of your fiefdom!
The mind’s canvas is much larger…
with ideas, too big for your caged mould.

I am! I am! and I will be...

:: In this work world full of ego-centric male chauvinist "Bosses", surrounded by their yes-men, its difficult being an independent minded woman with strong beliefs. He habitually said, "Everything is Important", but I say nothing is more important than respect and job satisfaction! 

If I don't even have the freedom to open the studio curtains for allowing the right amount of sunlight on my work desk, then definitely its not the right work environment for any Landscape Designer!!! Its ironic to find the desk plants droopy-leaved, dull and yearning for sunshine in a Landscape Architectural Office!!! Its our basic right to sunlight!(especially when its abundant in this part of the world!!!)

It can never be a Yes and No! 

There's no point in continuing in a place that does not allow me to be myself, breathe and bloom freely!  THE END for now... or is it...a new beginning!::

#toallmalechauvinists #workworld #workingwomaninamansworld #swimmingagainstthecurrent #daretobedifferent #worklifeimbalance #goodriddance #dowhatyoubelievein #worstworkenvironment

#worstjobsofar #saynotoinjustice #dontbeaslave

In Between Lines

The beauty of poetry is that it does not spell out exactly what the written word wants to say. Hidden in between those sentences is the abstract meaning of poetry. There is always one literal meaning, the second, deeper meaning or real meaning and then there is a third, the abstract meaning of a poem, that each reader discovers according to their own mindset, psychological background, culture, upbringing and intellect.

When I was writing my poems in the book Amaira, the little woman, I wanted them to be simpler than my first book, quiet happiness. The poems are almost a deconstructed version of the complex thought.

Each time I read the poems by my most favourite poets - - - Jalaluddin Rumi. Khalil Gibran and Rabindranath Tagore, what I find most apparent is that the language (English translation) is very simple, but the thought behind every line is of such a high level that only some can truly decipher it. The gist is never compromised or lost in translation.

I have always aimed at writing a poem in which the overall thought is more important than getting into the arrangement of each sentence. That way, there is always something mysterious tucked under a word which makes sense differently to different people.

When I say ‘evening’ in one of my poems, it refers to the second half of life, referring back to Carl Jung’s philosophy of two halves, where the first half of life is full of searching, striving, chasing, earning, pushing, rushing, enduring and relentlessly running towards what we feel is needed and wanted while the second half involves an inward journey toward wholeness and meaning.

When I say ‘lake’ or ‘home’, it actually refers to the mind’s qualities of that time. The poems are more metaphorical than literal. The stages of Bud, Bloom, Blossom and Butterfly are metaphors for a growing woman. Every word is a clue that opens the doors to a new phase in life. The entire gist of the poem is narrowed down into the last few lines and if that thought gets across to the reader, the poet wins!

Poetry is not always about finding the right rhyming pattern or the exact synonyms. I started believing in the power of free verse and minimalism right after my quiet happiness phase , and the beginning of my Amaira phase. But I did not know that the phase I was entering into, led to the birth of Amaira…

So dear readers, read and re-read in between the lines, each poem from my book Amaira, the little woman with a renewed mindset, opening your third eye of the soul. It's then that you will find the abstract meaning of a poem that relates to your own life. And you’ll realize, Amaira’s story is actually YOURS…a story woven by your own mind!

:: In between lines...::

Also - Ran

With little chubby legs
when you toddled your way around
exploring exciting new routes,
I ‘also-ran’ behind you…
only to keep you safe.

When you waited, confused
on unknown turns,
I held your tiny hands,
‘also-ran’ with you,
helped you choose...

My role has been to guide you,
show you the right direction.
Not to pave the way for you,
but to see you take the lead,
while I also-run…

Now both of you
are running ahead of me,
fast and independent.
I also-run, then wait and watch, proudly,
your silhouettes against the sun…

You need to find your inner calling
and build your own road when needed.
Just once in a while, turn back and look out for me…
perhaps a bit slower now, your mum,
‘also-running’, with one eye on your finish-line!

#tomyteenageson #growingupboys  #rolereversal #mumgetsolder 

:: This poem is especially to my teenage son, who is turning 14 in a few days...::

The Mind Vase

How was I ever going to find
all those broken fragments 

that fell apart
from the fragile vase of my mind…

Scattered into a million shards,
Confidence and Belief
drowned deep in the ocean’s belly…
Courage got carried away
in a stormy gust through sands.

It has taken me years.
to collect all the lost parts,
and glue them back in place,
with new ways to seal the cracks.

Stitch them with gold
from the wisdom of age...
Paint some with Patience,
Hope and Dreams.

My mind is now
a rustic Kintsugi vase!
Celebrating beauty of the broken
with a golden repair…

Shining scars reveal growth
and remind me of strength from loss.
Nonetheless my heart fears,
alas, it may shatter again…

Where do old birds go to die...

A few months ago, one old laughing dove came to my garden in the morning. He seemed very thirsty. We generally get a lot of laughing doves to sip on the cool waters of the bird bath. This one looked particularly pensive. I watched him from my window. He drank water and then crawled quietly under the raised decking of the zen garden. I thought he wanted to rest in the shade, so I postponed watering the garden to leave him undisturbed. 

After a few hours, my cat woke up and lazily walked into the garden, stretching out and yawning at every step. She began sniffing suspiciously under the decking. I ran outdoors to save the bird from our “serial killer hunter tigress”. But the bird seemed to be still asleep. He wasn't moving at all !!! 

I remembered him drinking a lot of water earlier that morning …And at that moment, I realised he had been sipping his last water. He had breathed his last…He came to my garden to go into deep slumber forever…

I secretly buried him later that day  in one of the flower beds of the community garden. I did not tell anyone. Somewhere I thought, a bird dying in my garden could be a bad omen. 

Where do old birds go to die? This line from the book “The Ministry of Utmost Happiness” by Arundhati Roy, had made me go into quiet contemplation for many days.

And then I realised, the old bird came to my garden to die… He felt comfortable, breathing his last, closing his eyes for the last time , in the soothing shades of my garden! I watched him lay unmoving on the moist bed of soil and leaves. 

I  have had many great memories with laughing doves in this place. A pair had their nest on the terrace of my earlier penthouse. They have even made an appearance in my book, Amaira, the little woman, posing for one of the pictures that compliment a poem! 

I have also watched many laughing doves stop laughing when they were caught by my extremely agile cat. I have seen them being dragged around , hanging out of her blood stained mouth. , with their feathers falling one by one. While I cannot blame the cat for her natural instincts, I was relieved that this dove at least wasn't murdered.  

So when death seems near, just like us humans, old birds try to fly to a calm place, where they feel comfortable to let it all go. He passed away silently, peacefully in his favourite spot. I'd like to believe that. 

Rest in peace, you laughing dove.

Keep laughing.

:: As featured in my book , Amaira, the little woman ::
 

:: Illustrated by my son Abhiir when he was 6 ::

Admiration for Amaira

It's been a month that Amaira has begun her journey across the pink sky. I'm happy to see, she has met many admirers on the way! 

I thank Bahareh Amidi, Iranian-American spiritual poet, for showering Amaira with blessings and some beautiful words —

“I have received the gift of your words and your art.
I love the feel of the book, it is all so welcoming…
I feel welcome to your life and to your world.

The faith of your mother in you, so deep, so rooted and yet branched out.
The number 40 is my favorite too!  

The birth, the bud.... the bloom, the colors and the possibilities all.....
To be showered by blessings …
And to go "From Within" to find one's own Light, Soul and Wing.

"The wind comes in" and I wonder what it will announce.
She is gentle and strong.

I feel your footsteps along the way, 

your footsteps leading to here and now.
Thank you for allowing me to enter your space and travel in your world.”

Sending love and Light,

Bahareh

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Soulful, inspiring…spectacular! You have grown as a writer… Your poems are passionate, mature and introspective. Each time I read, a new meaning blooms out from the words! “

— Vidyut, India

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“ Stunning illustrations that narrate poetic stories woven in a “YOU”nique style! I followed each transformation journeyed through different stages of the book.”

— Vini, US

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“The poems “Dialogue”, “In Exile”, “Mark of a Woman” walk us through parts of womanhood with all its grace, beauty, pain and strength.”

— Jade, UK

⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Amaira stands for every woman waiting to achieve herself as an independent, empowered being and not just a cliché of what she should be.”

— Mais, Egypt

⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Why am I not surprised! You are the artist, You are the poet! You look the part! “

— Nadine, Lebanon

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“You have crafted a world of silence, emotion, pain and serendipity...I am truly awed by the depth your words hold.”

— Vishal, India

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Heartwarming! … A Beautiful book! There is a lot of soul poured in every word & illustration. This book is truly a journey of a woman through thick-n-thin, day-n-night of life and is my favorite ‘go-to’ book for short reads…“Me without you” being my favorite.”

– Niv, UAE

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Expressive Visuals! … Beautiful expressions in thought and visuals allow the reader to interpret poems on multiple levels. Illustrations convey a spiritual transformation.”

— Krishna, UAE

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"When an architect is a poet, their poetry goes way beyond words. Visually solid piece of art, effortless storytelling &original thought. This book delivers way more than it promises! Indeed makes a lasting impression on the reader."

— Asmita Patwardhan, India

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"A rule breaker from childhood, who drives into the unknown to mark her identity. Own storyteller, trying to find her innerscapes ...She's Amaira."

— Anjana, India

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Each poem leaves an imprint on your mind. Deeply moved by "Broken", transported to another world in "October Sky" and I started 2024 with "Newfound"

— Chat, US

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"A journey with multiple layers of depth within the words to recall quiet days of deep thought and learn more about yourself. I am in love with this book."

— Christina, Spain

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Use of specific colors in the art beautifully captures the highs and lows of each phase of life. Compels you to reflect and pause for a second."

— Wafaa, Sudan

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"Interesting specifics of landscapes, tree species and flowers. Every sketch is an abstract of the words!

— Nick, UAE

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"The poetic verses illuminate the spirit, ignited in the mornings, softened by evenings and passionately ablaze at midnight."

— Galina, Serbia

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