My mother’s lipstick

Sometimes in sheer memory

I glide on smoothly

a matt finished lipstick

on my skin.

The color maroon

one November afternoon

I see through the mirror

the woman I have known

or reflection of my own.

Not any other

I see my mother

wearing Her lipstick

that compliments Her style

Her beautiful smile.


Miss you mom. 💝


While reading “Rumi’s Daughter”.

I never realized how important it is to write, how it brings life to something or someone long forgotten or dead, until I read:

This time Aishel, too, bent over the strange signs Ahmed was drawing on the ground. So that what writing did! It allowed someone to talk to you, even after he had died! She looked at her sister who was now repeating the sound of each letter after Ahmed, her usual irritation at Kimya (her sister) turning into sadness.

She always thought that talking sense to Kimya was like facing a wall but this impression towards her sister was now coming to end. Her younger sister was born to be different, learning to read and write was huge in her.

Having learnt to write is truely a blessing I realize now. How the Holy books of all religions are continously guiding us to the right path and how different the ways can be to talk to your Creator. As Rumi says: Everyone loves the Creator, and it’s true that our way is not the only way to talk to Him (The Almighty).

One of the other highlights from the book:

Do you know the story about the Moth in love with the Flame?

A beautiful description how deep can love grow, like an endless ocean without shores. One simply need to learn to bear with it. Because in the end the moth, the flame and the wind will all be one. Consumed!

Well I regret now not to have read The Fourty Rules of Love before reading Rumi’s Daughter. Will definitely be my next read after finishing this, So wish me.


Raining Tonight


Rain streaked windows and long drives

Lonely streets and lengthy rides

Songs on the play catching up mood swing

accompanied by the noisy wind


Journey followed by a dark night

On a verge of happiness, so bright

Moods refreshed

at it’s best

Kids playing by the street side


Driving on the lane for the night meal

To the window lady I booked the deal

Chickee Chicken with spicy top

My hunger hormones doing hip hop


People clustered on pavements roam

Eyes set for reaching home

And I reach my block  with so delight

Oh sure! what a lovely night


(Anne Baluch)



So Familiar

This watchful dark night

Have driven me sleepless

That familiar looking person

Have driven me sleepless


A moment I pass a giggle

A moment I sit and grieve

Memories followed by the past

Have Driven me sleepless

Poetry’s ain’t a jest

But a blessing from above

Satire and resents of people

Have driven me sleepless

This watchful dark night

Have driven me sleepless

(Anne Baluch)

That Feeling

 (Job Hunt)

I’m on a walk, or on a hunt

Pampered and suited

Buttons tucked and booted

Faking a smile

For this little while

To Shiny faces

On which maturity laces

Studying me from a distance

On my existence

In this little room

Whether I’ll fail or boom

To their expectations

Mystical creations

Asking their point of view

On my interview.

(Anne Baluch)

Night So Good

Everyone in this hour fallen asleep

So am I now encircled with dreams

One with a moon and a lots of stars

Another with a giant beyond the bars

And here I feel the heaviness on my eyes

Perhaps it’s time for me to lie

Come, smother me with fantasy

Or help me build a legacy

It isn’t that tough to surrender oneself

To dreams and hopes and lovely bets

And here am taken by a cozy flight

And here comes another “Goodnight”.