Escape Poetry

Poetry straight from the heart, warm and pure.

If for a moment

“If for a moment…” – Mohit Vamsi


If for a moment,
You think of me as a quill,
That had a heart which pumped,
Ink in place of blood,
And it flowed in my veins and arteries,
A quill with vibrant feathers,
Made of my dreams of the nighttime,
If words and thoughts,
Were my life and soul,
And the purpose of my being,
Was only to write;
Then in this moment,
I’m one of the living dead,
With no life or soul,
My veins devoid of blood,
A faded feather with stains of ink,
Drifting away into nothingness

Featured image ©:



“The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery” – Francis Bacon

“Artist” – Mohit Vamsi


Armed with a sheet of snow white paper
And pencils with lead coal black
She takes her position,
Looking at a person
Sitting on a wooden park bench.
Or is it a picture,
Of a person sitting on a wooden park bench?
This we don’t know
But she looks at it long and hard,
Taking in all the tiny details.
Trifling other might say,
(But she breathes perfection).
The design on the wrought iron handles of the bench,
Some cracks in the wooden planks,
His perfect teeth in a brilliant smile,
The one odd hair standing out,
An old scar here, a wrinkle there,
The crumbled sleeves of his worn-out shirt.
And then she attacks the paper,
Sketching the picture in black and white,
We behold a creator in action.
A couple dozen minutes walk by,
She looks up, almost finished,
The man is still sitting on the bench,
He hasn’t moved.
Or if it is a picture, it hasn’t changed.
Some more strokes, she adds the finishing lines,
It’s done now, a masterpiece created.
Finally satisfied, she leaves the sheet there and walks away,
A beautiful soul lost in a strange world.
Through her art we get a glimpse
Of all the mysteries locked up inside her,
A true maestro, the drawing is perfect;
Or is it a man?

Featured image ©:

What goes on in a physicist’s heart ?

For the love of Physics; and the physics of love!

“What goes on in a physicist’s heart ?” – Mohit Vamsi


I was a simple unit charge,
Floating through space,
Until I came across,
The field of force you create,
Like the gravitational pull,
Of a super dense neutron star,
Strong and irresistible,
The pull of a superconducting magnet,
And now the escape velocity is so great,
I can’t even think of being away from you.
Fell for you at critical velocity,
The heart accelerates,
And my world spins like a crazy gyroscope.
Time spent with you is relativistic,
Passes by at the speed of light.
I wish we were together always like nucleons,
Held by strong nuclear forces,
Inseparable like uncertainties,
In finding a quantum particle.
Though the distances are great dear,
My love for you is stronger,
Just as f equals k times x.
Our fundamental frequencies resonate,
And the thought waves give a positive interference.
Two similar forces, We’d make a perfect couple.
And girl, if someday there is any friction,
Or resistance in our equation of continuity,
I know we’ll smooth ‘em out,
Pass through them unaffected,
Like neutrinos through matter,
The bonds stronger.
I hope that someday,
We will find our constants,
Conditions for stable equilibrium.
I wish we find a way, Maybe a wormhole,
To somehow overcome,
This space time continuum.
Go to new dimensions or,
To our precious infinity.
But then I comfort myself,
with the thought that out there,
Amongst the endless possible realities
And the infinite possible universes,
There will be one in which we are together,
Like the steady-state theory,
A happy ever after.

Featured image: ©

Fight the world

“Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.” – Mark Twain.

“Fight the world” – Mohit Vamsi.


I see you’ve failed,
Let down, broken apart,
Punched in the face,
Back to square one.
Accept it. It’s in the past.
Don’t let it hold you down,
Waste no time in despair.
Count your blessings,
And thank heavens,
You’re still alive,
Up and running.
Know this my friend,
The world owes you nothing,
It was here first. They say,
All is fair in love and war,
And life is more of the latter.
Conjure up your strengths,
You are your own hero,
Be the general, and the soldier,
Make your own battlefield.
You have the weapons,
You know the tactics,
The war is on,
Now fight the world.

Featured image: ©


“Aurora” – Mohit Vamsi.


It’s dark now,
Gloomy, dark and black.
The whole world in grayscale.
All lay in wait for the miracle,
A diurnal ritual, aurora.

The early creatures,
And the nocturnal beings,
In their humble dwellings,
And some without;

Some in their sleep,
Some out of it,
Await the presence,
Of the star performer,
And I take my place beside,
My paneless bedroom window.

The sky begins to brighten,
Stars blinking, fading, leave the arena,
The moon lingers on maybe,
To greet its heavenly counterpart;
He’s behind the curtains now,
The magic is starting to happen,
The maiden rays of the sun,
Arrive with paints to color the earth,
First a bowl of molten gold,
Rising above the horizon,
Then the clouds, like velvet sheets,
In orange, violet and suchlike hues,
The leaves now, put on various greens,
The branches bathe in brown,
And blue diffusing in the colorless and calm,
Like mirrors, the waters of dawn.
The show finished, the curtains vanish,
Spectators disperse and I’m amazed,
As the sun shines bright and high,
A gift from skies, the present,
A new day, a new beginning,
The inception of something magical…

Featured image: ©

Lazy and Happy

“Lazy and Happy” – Mohit Vamsi.


A breezy winter day,
Numbingly cold,
Shivering, teeth chattering,
I’m drunk on laziness,
Torpid to the bones.
Let the skies fall,
And the sun blow up.
And I won’t care.
I’ll fritter away,
Whole weeks,
Meditating on,
The riddles of life.
Give me a good book,
A cup of hot chocolate,
And a cozy corner;
I’ll be invincible,
A contended spirit,
Master of my universe,
And I’ll be happy…

Featured image: ©

The longing of a lonely heart

“The longing of a lonely heart” – Mohit Vamsi.


Yet again I find myself,
In despair, beside myself,
The blues, they rush back to me,
All those times alone I used to be,
The innocent, trusting idiot that I am,
A stupid, confused, alexithymic,
I crave to find a faraway place,
With seclusion and solace,
Where I could go and rest a while,
None around for couple a mile,
Let the calm, soothe my soul,
Heal the wounds and make me whole,
And wait for that someone,
I bide, when that one will come,
An angel who could intuit,
The longing of a lonely heart.

Featured image: ©

Let the words flow

“Let the words flow” – Mohit Vamsi.


So many thoughts in my head,
Walking, wandering, sometimes running,
Stumbling over one another,
Talking and shouting all at once.
I then let my hand write,
Just letting the words flow out.
And as I fill the empty paper,
With lines in blue and cursive hand,
The thoughts slow down and walk around,
Calmer now and uncluttered,
I am now filled with peace anew,
One of the purest kinds of joy,
Oh the sheer bliss of writing,
Heavenly and beyond compare.

On a quiet winter’s night

“On a quiet winter’s night” – Mohit Vamsi.


Cold, dark and white,
On a quiet winter’s night,
The moon bright and high,
In the pitch black sky,
Everything stood eerily still,
As if the clock’s stopped ticking,
No solemnly chirping crickets,
No cacophonous croaking frogs,
Not even the winter winds’ whisper;
There’s only the steady beating,
Of my happy heart singing,
I close my eyes, grateful,
And this precious silence I savor,
On a quiet winter’s night.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑