A Toast to Love

First, some good news. My poem ‘Methuselah’ features in a new anthology, #Versesoflove, a wonderful collection of 100 poems that celebrates love in all its forms.

I was reading about the 4,852 years old Methuselah tree in California’s White Mountains one rainy September night, and just like that a stream of emotions had gushed out without warning and indiscriminately arranged themselves into verse.

Poetry, as they say, is the poet’s effort to make sense of the universe. As much an observation of the outer world, as it is a reflection of the inner one.

The book is currently on Amazon India and will be available worldwide shortly.


Today’s poem, ‘A Toast to Love’ was written on 31.12.2020. A toast as was raised then is due tonight too. To survival, hope, inspiration and above all, hearts being held with love. Cheers!

Tonight let’s raise a toast to
how we fought and survived
turning every terrible day into
a victory of enduring hope.
The way we never let distance
stop us from reaching out
to say how much we care.
Let the new year inspire you
to polish your soul to a shine
But what is really, truly worth
celebrating tonight is someone
who knows you by heart,
understands your darkness and
continues to love you.



A Practical Kind Of Love

A whole year has gone by without a single post and it feels strange, like coming home after a long stint overseas. But apart from the obvious pandemic issues, I had a good enough reason. Getting a book published is an arduous process and I’m happy that 2020 wasn’t all wasted. For those interested, my second book, ‘The Silence Between‘ is available on Amazon worldwide. I’d love your feedback, so please get yourselves a copy, read at leisure and let me know what you think.

So now that that kind of busyness is out of the way, and since April is the official poetry writing month (#NaPoWriMo), I’ve decided to resume on a poetic note. Here’s my first offering of the month.


I’m done with romanticizing
a longing for what is no more there
Why must I keep the nights that
tore my insides apart like
flowers pressed in favourite books
and call it nostalgia?
Let me walk lightly, be practical
It is my problem that I care
You’re not the one to pine for me or
interrupt your busyness just for love
So take my memory and make
a mad, roaring bonfire of it
And if you still aren’t warm at night
I’ll write you something pretty.

~ Renica Rego aka Zara