In my head
There is a film strip
looped around
the winter of 2006.

For, that over-the-top
joy has seeped
through this montage
of domes, streets,
the softest sunbeams.
Out-of-control coffee cups
on cycle richshaws.
Opinions that mattered,
People who, sadly, don’t anymore.

For, every time
they play ‘torn’
or ‘paradise city’
or ‘in a New York state of mind’,
this cruel theatre of
remembrance is in place.

Now, there are
deep neon gashes
On rum bottles still
hidden in my locker.

And purple ones
across that thing
they call Nostalgia.


10 thoughts on “Trippin’

  1. Hey Nidhii have never been very good at describing what i feel about poetry, but I read from your blog very often and I totally love your poetry. I’m a little more in Awe each time πŸ™‚

  2. This is beautiful . very nice, very nice. i just love this one re. perfectly captured moments.. well crafted.. its like images came floating while i read it. almost imagined.. the thing what they call- nostalgia

  3. nidhi nidhi nidhi… so glad i discovered this blog of urs…..its is truly very good…solid stuff….beautiful poetry…the kinda stuff true literature is made of…beautiful is the only word i can think of, but somewhere that word is used so often n am afraid it sounds mundane or cliched….am at a loss of words otherwise…..keep writing….you truly inspire thoughts, nostalgia and jus the words and imagery find a place in the heart without so much as an effort….great stuff…cheers!

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