Welcome to Kirti’s Signature
A place that I call my own. A place that houses my thoughts and my words. You will feel at home here. So just enter and enjoy.
Kirti
Self proclaimed bibliophile, poet, coffee-lover and a lifelong learner. Books, coffee and music is my definition of a retreat.
About
POETRY
ARTICLES
STORIES
My Recent Book
Poetic Pearls – a collection of 75 poems will take you on a wondrous journey of words. The poems written in various poetic styles speak about inspiration, sorrow, love, grief and patriotism. The poet’s observation and inspiration from what she sees around her is reflected in the poems listed. The poems here are a testimony to Edgar Allan Poe ‘s quote – “Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.”
Recent Posts
Lonely
In English we say, I feel lonely, But in poetry… I walk in the crowd, still feel something is amiss, I hear thousands of voices, still my ears don't hear. I see people in plenty, still my eyes seem to be yearning. So many to hear me, still I feel unheard. My heart...
Netaji
Swatantratha* was your aim, Even if you had to move away from non-violence, For which Azad Hind Fauj* was your calling. Your voice lured many, sans gender bias, To take up arms to free the country. "Tum mujhe khoon do, main tumhe azaadi doonga!!" * Your slogan echoes...
Confused!!!
Appalled was I when I read their words, I couldn't make a head or tail out of it, And words seem to have lost their meaning. MHROTD, well does this make your day? Or Many happy returns of the day? The IDK and IDC, Look like acronyms of some disease....
Indian Hill Stations That Are Still Untouched by Mass Tourism
India has no shortage of hill stations, but let’s be honest — places like Ooty or Manali are no longer peaceful escapes. Overcrowding, traffic, and commercialization have taken away the charm. If you’re looking for calm, clean air, and real connection with nature,...
Frozen Tear
His eyes open, gaze fixed, His hand on the trigger still intact, The bloody chest that took the bullets Froze in red, telling his tale. A tear skipped from his eye, And remained frozen as snow engulfed him. Why did he shed a tear, What was his worry or fear?...
The Mushroom Cloud
Clouds, the white fluffy cottons, That float on the cerulean sky, Aaah… a lovely sight to watch. When they turn black, They invite the rains, To quench the thirst of the earth and its mortals. Are all clouds like that? But there was once a black cloud, That...