Category Archives: humour

If Hamlet were an ebook author he would say


To promote or not  promote, that is the question

 Whether tis nobler in the mind to pray

Someone downloads your book

Or take arms and persuade readers to explore

And by nagging begin? To believe that your words

Could launch a thousand clicks, ten thousand, virality,

Oh Bieber, Bieber you innocent project of Luck,

The Gods they change, from aeon to aeon,

Here you are despicable writer, on your knees,

Supplicating minion of the Word

Can you bear the unkindness of unknown readers,

the negligence of fingers that do not click,

the ignorance of credit card holders, the gateways

that grate the fingernails of anxious writer, anxious you,

when can you leave all this behind? The hours and hours

of surfing, the liking and unliking,

the fawning and cajoling, the spider’s web in you expanding

into a dream, your dreams now a network of jpgs. Soft now!

A reader comes, be on your best behaviour, smile, say cheese,

fall on your knees, say ‘Read’!

(I apologize to all my English Professors for this desecration of Hamlet’s unparalleled speech!)


neelthemuse@ 2013

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Posted by on August 5, 2013 in Dark fantasy, humour, Paranormal Romance


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Mole in the Making

Moles are small cylindrical mammals who lead a subterranean lifestyle. For some reason they are linked to whistle blowers……


Hi there

I’m the mole

In a tunnel

Out of sci-fi

I’m blind as hell

But sure can see

You my petite

Sweet baby

In a web,

You’re in the spotlight

You’re the star

You all are.


Twinkle twinkle little stars

How we wonder what you are!

How we heart your dance and cry

How we love your little lives!

Believe in us, we can not see

Be leave, be leave, be leave, be leave.

neelthemuse@ 2013

Check out my book Unsettled @ the Indireads Book Store:


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Posted by on July 10, 2013 in humour


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It has been a while since I wrote Read Sonnet 12, will you?. In this poem I spoke of the dilemma of sharing poetry with an anti-poet.

What happens when the anti-poet suddenly reforms? It can happen. The anti-poet can one day be subsumed by a recognition of the power of language, even metre. This happened one morning and so I wrote….

What exactly does this mean?
He points to typography.

I squint, the morning light gets into the eyes,

Donne the metaphysical poet, he says.

Stunned is when absurdity opens its curtains no more to bleakness,
But trees in bud, a winning poet’s vocabulary.

I look at Donne and he looks back.

Explain, he says.

Isn’t this what you wanted after all?
The moment, yours, when the veil opens,
Fruit revealing all without a prayer to beg?

I’m done with it at least for now, I cannot understand a word
A magic necklace slips off my throat,
The meanings once more clothed.

© neelthemuse,2013


Posted by on January 16, 2013 in humour


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Angry Young Blog

I’ve been quiet lately and sometimes my blog begins to rant. I’m surprised that her voice is this strong….


Buddha Rocks

Take me, I am voluptuous (so say my Blog Stats)

I have visitors from all over the world, they come backpacking to find.

I let them Like, Comment, Commingle, Browse.

Don’t crinkle your nose and wrinkle your brows

I auction my body for my voice to be heard.


The market place is large- sell your wares!  You’ve mused me enough!

Are you in your right mind? Shouldn’t there be a How to Write and an About How to do a How to Write?

Shouldn’t there be a hue and cry? Sometimes I’m afraid you do not share me enough-

I am ignored, unsatisfied.


Where could they be my valiant subscribers?

Are they reading alternate genres?  Has their taste for poetry declined like Rome? Are they recuperating in hospital?

Do you scratch their back enough, so that they will scratch yours?

I itch, could you please tickle my blogroll, you ignoramus?

Could you please reinvent?


PS: Considering this outcry, I have decided to reinvent- what would you like me to blog about then? The odd poem and what else? This is my eighty seventh post and I think change is a good way forward. Any workable solutions are welcome.


© neelthemuse, 2012


Posted by on March 20, 2012 in humour


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When an absent minded man searches for his yesterday

It is rather odd how disorganized/eccentric/absent-minded people who do not make checklists spend a large part of their lives searching for mundane things like glasses.


But I left my glasses there, right there on the table

The little one by the stair, silly me to keep it by the table

Near the stair, but that is where I left it and now it isn’t there?

My wife had told me to get a spare, but I couldn’t bear the thought

Of separating from my sturdy set,

And here I am again fumbling, bumbling, stumbling,

I thought death undid!

I thought my pretty wife would clean up my things

Before they sprouted wings, and arrange them safe

Just to get a smell of me, a lingering waft of face,

A  touch of my jacket, a feel of the rim,

A pasted photograph of her glorious him,

No, she packed me away.


I want to forget, she said

Throw all the books that he read

Unwalk those roads he did tread

Maybe a new massage in his bed?


© neelthemuse,2012


Posted by on January 2, 2012 in Day to day, humour


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