Chandrama Deshmukh is a writer by profession and a poet by passion. Moonlit Monochrome is her first collection of English poems. She has authored two books of Marathi poems. A storyteller of sorts, the moon is her muse. Poetry for Chandrama is that one streak of silver lining amidst the chaos of life. Being an avid reader, photography enthusiast and a part-time playwright, she believes nothing touches her soul the way poetry does.Buy a copy of Moonlit Monochrome - Amazon.com | Amazon.in | FlipKart | Infibeam | Smashwords | Google Play | Amazon KindleWhat Is Moonlit Monochrome?I am picking up pieces of life And handing them over to you. Dipped in words. And longing. This book is a map of my soul. My moonlit monochrome.- Chandrama
I refuse to inherit cruel conditioning I will breathe my own bizarre air Call me a rebel if you wish I don’t deny, nor do I care Bare feet on filthy roads A brutal smile to each stranger I refuse
Poetry doesn’t just happen. It’s not just a bunch of words grabbed hastily and arranged to rhyme, it’s not even a so called overflow of emotions. Poetry is much more than that. It’s the silence that echoes within your being,
Today, like everyday You forgot to smile at the mirror The house waved and waved You probably didn’t notice! Buses and cars and people and dogs The sun was scanning them all Realization. Oh! I forgot my handkerchief You missed
The worn out longing rests in me Blooming a thought sluggishly Of times when you unwrapped within Your touch melting my transparent skin A heavy block of pain in throat Zillion words thought and wrote Your being was my poem
She lived like a gush of wind And looked like breeze in trance Her thoughts freely bounced on paper In an awesomely imperfect dance She loved and sang and smiled to the sky Dived in dreams without asking why Her
Remember that fairy tale we read together? The prince and princess wearing crowns stellar studded with the rarest of gems! I got similar ones made by my jeweler. But he said he’d have to use artificial colored stones I Compromised!
And accompany me To a place where you always wanted to be The aches, the heart-breaks, the constant high and low Mechanical existence, your mind is stuck in flow Let’s drink the magic potion, and sleep in utmost rest Give
10 ways to write a poem! No sentence in the glory of English language has hit me as hard as this one did. I started writing poetry when I was in class 7th. I still remember the day when this
I belong to the song of the sun Humming the chants of flame I breathe. The sea rests in me motionless With its endless depths I think. Storms of being, clear the chaos Emptiness of chaste silence I hear. A
लकीरें ज़िंदगी की तरह उलझी हैं हथेली पर हर सिरा अधूरा सा कुछ तलाश रहा है, उँगलियों की खाली सीढ़ियाँ गिनती रहती हैं रात और दिन एक खालीपन सा फैला है इन हाथों पर, तेरे बिन, पलों को बटोर कर
तेरी आहट से, सारा घर फिर जीने लगता है वरना इस शहर के एक बेजान पुर्जे की तरह पड़ा रहता है किसी कोने में…सुस्त, सहमा, डरा सा! तेरे आते ही इसकी साँसे अपने आप चलने लगती हैं दरवाज़े खिड़कियाँ, पर्दों
I hid that first poem from everyone But you read it in my eyes You taught me to love my books And smile with every sunrise I don’t understand this world I would crib and ask you why “You will
A lonely piece of night on my palm Restlessness maturing to blissful calm Shapes of life moulding in me Fencing the fields of destiny Solitary thoughts rooted in self Refusing support, rejecting help Unwinding the core, reaching within To bones,
Remembrances… A wild laugh, needling rain, choked breath, flashes of pain. Memories slumber, dreams drain! A past I hold, tied to my back. A heavy bulging, under the skin, sack I walk past the stories, of flowers and song A
In case I forget to write about this I want you know I swallowed some words by mistake once And didn’t understand where did they go? I feel something on my fingertips A charming passionate greed Thoughts flow and words
I stand alone gulping the lazy sun Slouching in sky, avoiding everyone A chaotic day, finally descending Darkness sprouts an intoxicated ending A quiet little leaf falls from a tree You sigh at its fall, I am glad it’s free
कुछ बच्चे खेल रहे थे रात की सड़क पर तारों के कंचों से, चाँद को मार गिराने का खेल और खेल ही खेल में पता भी न चला उन्हें कि कंचों की मार से चाँद के चहरे पर पड़ गए
I saw him behind the stack of books Skinny build and ordinary looks Thick black frame around sleepy eyes Expression clammy and mighty wise She barged in and stood with a stare Scared me a moment, unaware A long blue
Flipping pages inhaling words Like open arms and fluttering birds. A clay pot, a blue sky. Paddy fields passing by. Just touch each word, it comes to life With laughter, anger, pleasure and strife I travel with people living in
तुम्हारे ये दो हाथ जैसे मेरे दोनों जहान कभी जलती रेत कभी गीला आसमान इन हाथों से छुऊँ तो पाक हो जाऊँ न मिले इनका साया तो ख़ाक हो जाऊँ इन लकीरों के सहारे ज़िंदगी थमी है ये हाथ मेरा
I opened my eyes and saw her first, She was my savior in hunger and thirst, I cling to her till I grew And then I wanted something new. A passion drove me to taste and smell, The world that
जो खुश्बू छोड़ गई थी यहाँ आज फिर से उसने मुझे घेरा है सड़कों पर चहरे रौशन हैं इतने चाँद की ऊंगली थामे सवेरा है| क़दमों पर पंख लगाकर ख़याल बेख़ौफ़ भागते है सपने भी यहाँ आँखें खोल रात रात
Too much said, too much heard. Numbness remains, unperturbed. Freckles of past, growing on words Poems look like a discolored herd Stifling sunrises deep within Echoing thoughts under the skin I crave for myself, more each time Reciting a wordless,
I love scribbling on bits of paper Its like I let go of emotions… One after the other. Hold all those pieces in my palms, And throw them all over the place I was sleepless last night Amidst the emotions
He was the first man your eyes opened to.. The shivering hand that touched your tiny nose.. The strong arm you cuddled on.. His love that kept brimming but never spilled.. Those eyes that made everything seem within reach.. That
Words Stick to my hands, cling to my fingers, hide under my elbow. A trembling poem loses its grip and drops on the sheet. Petrified! Alphabets behave funny these days. Like a mute child with an unbearable stomach-ache. Baffled phrases
जिसे जीने की चाह है, उसे शायर ना बनाओ बड़ी पेचीदा राह है, उसे शायर ना बनाओ। यादों की जमा पूँजी, पड़ी है सो रहने दो जो माज़ी से बेपरवाह है, उसे शायर ना बनाओ। नज़रों के खेल, माना दिलचस्प
How would I know, I am not here? A stagnant period. A sudden fear. Who will open my window at dawn? And snooze my alarm when I am gone. That creaky cupboard and stubborn drawer Who will take my warm
That old pair of socks, lying in the drawer, Reminds me of mom, winters and A long lost lover… Those fresh white textures Look worn out and grey And yet there’s so much they’re waiting to say… I touch them
I wanted to be you For all this while I longed for your elegance And that perfect smile I picked up your style I did things your way How would you react? What would you say? Your thoughts, your dreams