Writing Love Poems Without Being Loved Is Perhaps One Of The Toughest Things I Do As A Poet.

Accidentally stumbled upon your blog, but now I find myself eagerly exploring each post, savoring the beauty of your prose. The way you articulate ideas and infuse emotions into your writing is truly remarkable.

Thank you so much for the compliment. It means a lot. Wish you a great day/night ahead <3

If Only (Poem) by Shayan Das

[Artworks/Images: In Bed: The Kiss, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1892) | Renoir (2012) | Romantic Lovers, Willem Haenraets]

Fall Poetry Recommendations 🍁

To Autumn by John Keats

My November Guest by Robert Frost

Fall, leaves, fall by Emily Brontë

Autumn by John Clare

End of Summer by Stanley Kunitz

Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare

Sunset to Star Rise by Christina Rossetti

First Fall by Maggie Smith

Ode to the West Wind by P.B. Shelley

Autumn Song by W.H. Auden

Tell me not here by  A.E. Houseman

The Wild Swans at Coole William Butler Yeats

Japanese Maple by Clive James

The Beautiful Changes by Richard Wilbur

Among the Rocks by Robert Browning

Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost

Beyond the Red River by Thomas McGrath

September Midnight by Sara Teasdale

Autumn Fires by Robert Louis Stevenson

A Reminiscence by Richard O. Moore

It's September by Edgar Albert Guest

And how easily we claim our love to be unconditional while knowing at the same instant that the greatest basis for loving someone more than our lives is to make ourselves exist.

Shayan Das

I would rather cherish nightmares than dreams in life for at least the former has the power to wake me up from my sleep.

Shayan Das

I remember the day after writing the last exam of my grade 10th finals. I was convincing my father about my ardent interest in taking creative writing for further studies and heard him say, "The seas might look the best things to romanticise, so as long as you're hydrated, but in the fullness of time, you'll find 'tis the clouds, invariably not the seas, that can quench your thirst". And I realised beyond a shadow of a doubt how people are born romantics and made realists.

Shayan Das

If ever in life you'll look back and cry remember it won't be because you could not but because you did not.

Shayan Das

"No, I won't eat," 5-year-old me would say and slam the door with vexation after being rebuked by his mother. "You eat alone," he'd cry in response to the persistent calls, knowing at the same time that mom wouldn't take a single bite, leaving him hungry. After an hour or two, mom would be back with the plate, feed him with her own hands, and home would be where it was supposed to be. The pollen grains, I learned, dare to fly, soar, and flutter in the wind only 'cause they know there will be flowers to catch them.

A bad day at school. 15-year-old me would bitterly answer a question from mom and regret the entire night for yelling at her for no reason at all. He'd sit beside her the next morning and greet her with a sorry. "I didn't mean to..." he would utter, and mom, cheerful as ever, would respond with a smile by that time. "You needn't," she'd say, and ask with uneasiness, "What happened at school yesterday?" "You could reply to me in that way," she'd add with assurance, "'cause you cannot with the world. 'Cause you trust I'm the only one who won't take it to heart". He'd already be in tears, embrace his mom tightly, and home would be where it was supposed to be. The love I sought for ages, I learned, is a mother.

Shayan Das, excerpt from 'The Love I Learned'