Friday, December 1, 2023



Solitude Hummed Around Me


Solitude hummed around me, soft, tender,

as I sat on the bench, drenched in myriad thoughts.

Soon, it crept inside me. Maple leaves rustled,

while the world around tussled; well-muscled folks

choking on their full-throated logic justifying power and pelf.


I surrendered to a strange sensation.

A moment passed. Two more- then three.

Then almost an eternity.


A stillness so profound enveloped me,

gripping me in solitude’s grandeur.


It touched the depths of my soul.

I touched the Truth.

I sat on the bench, smiling.

Having a heart-to-heart talk with my inner self.

Tethered to solitude, I felt free.


Solitude hummed around me, soft, tender.


The Muttering Night


The night muttered soliloquies.

Was it so lonely that it had to talk to itself?


The talking night de- cluttered my mind,  

enveloping me in a soul-sustaining solitude.

I peeped inside, to find tiny dreams,

sporting gossamer wings scurrying around,

in their perennial quest of fulfillment.


I watched amused,

as they held hands and broke into dance.


I also glimpsed a stooped figure, almost asphyxiating.

Suddenly a creative frenzy gripped him.

I gawked as the figure found a piece of paper, and started writing.


He no longer looked like one

whose oxygen supply had been siphoned off.


Had another being awakened within his breast;

he wrote on, surrounded by a soothing solitude.  


The Nightingale Inside Me


I am sure Shelley would have been proud of me.

In the expansive solitude, a nightingale sang to me,

cheering my ‘solitude with sweet sounds’ *

No, it was not singing from a tree in the wilderness.

I could hear it inside me. Right inside my heart.

Was it I serenading my own solitude?

The vile thought made me smile.

How could I even feign to sing in that screechy voice of mine?

It was the nightingale perched on a heartbeat, pulsating, throbbing.

With every beat of the heart, its wee head bobbing up and down.

What an intriguing musical cadence!

What a mind-boggling range of sounds and sequence.

First, it chirped simple chirps- soothing. 

Chirp- chirp –tweet- tweet.


Then, I don't know, what got over it,

it started furiously knocking at my heart.

Knock- knock knock.

Beating furiously. How can one feel lonely,

when one has solitude for company?


Hey, it had now started drumming - the resilient drummer!  

The solitude hummed, and that small drummer drummed.

Nature's beatboxer was now feeling snug inside me.

It emanated such positive energy.

How I wished I could become a tree,

and the tiny melodious bird would sit there,

open its little beak and sing,

belting out song after






Sing to me - serenade my solitude.

Such myriad vocalizations. Amazing.

It was the very sound of existence.

The very sound of life in its many hues, tones, and tenors.

In blissful gratitude, I saluted solitude’s majesty.


P B Shelley, *A Defence of Poetry: An unfinished Essay by Percy Bysshe Shelley




SANTOSH BAKAYA: Winner of International Reuel Award for literature for Oh Hark, 2014, The Universal Inspirational Poet Award [Pentasi B Friendship Poetry and Ghana Government, 2016,] Bharat Nirman Award for literary Excellence, 2017, Setu Award, 2018, [Pittsburgh, USA] for ‘stellar contribution to world literature.’ Keshav Malik Award, 2019, for ‘staggeringly prolific and quality conscious oeuvre’.Chankaya Award  [Best Poet of the Year, 2022, Public Relations Council of India,], Eunice Dsouza Award 2023, for ‘rich and diverse contribution to poetry, literature and learning’,[Instituted  by WE Literary Community]  poet, biographer, novelist, essayist, TEDx speaker, creative writing mentor, Santosh Bakaya, Ph.D has been acclaimed for her poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Ballad of Bapu [Vitasta, 2015], her poems have been translated into many languages, and short stories have won many awards, both national and international. She writes a popular weekly column, Morning Meanderings in Learning and Creativity. Com. Her twenty- three books cover different genres; her latest being, What is the Metre of The Dictionary?



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