Best 93 quotes of Jasleen Kaur Gumber on MyQuotes

Absence is more, thorny on the soul, than however dulcet, presence can be. Apparently, I have missed you, more than, I have ever loved you.

A flame that flickered, And a soul that whimpered, A candle that blazed, And a fragrance that raised.   The flames were fed the same, But one remained diminished, While the other touched vintage!

And I sat there at the patio, while the whole of universe, was getting engulfed, in the whitest whiteness of snow. Down, near my rough paw, is soft snow, mannering a fidgeting embryo. I monitored the snow that plunged, on the soil of my backyard, and realized it melting fast. Was that the temperature or, my eyes on it overcast? While I think of this melted exalt, I am obliged to ask, What ought happens to the thoughts? Where do they get tossed? When they are forgot? Scorched? Scoffed? Deformed? Unadorned?

And sometimes when I tilt my head, in that deep sleep, I realize I forgot to tell you what happened at work, in the thick of, all other rubbish daily stuff. And then I hate to believe, it’s more than 5 hours to hit the snooze, and now suddenly the night seems longer- than any lazy afternoon. I want to talk to you now, before I forget How I have imagined you will react, word by word, And act by act. But I kind of manage dozing off in a few minutes, And I clearly forget it morning, This entire instance. But tonight- when you are asleep, and I am Wide awake like a snake, I don’t say I forgot any Buzz to discuss, but I have this insane gush Of words of tell you I how much I have loved you through. Precisely none of this should be forgotten, So I decide to write this poem and tell you, I am so much in my moment of truth.

And what's beyond vastness? It shrinks...

As the sun sets, something in me rises! Do you think it could be my soul? I feel it's a big probability!

Be an artist, in whatever little faculty possible. For the Earth, without ‘Art’ is just ‘Eh

Best of stories are created at Airports, Dinner Tables and Showers!

Certain voices heard are heard not because they are phonetic... But, from one soul they head, to another, in the form of magic. (Poem: When, When a not, Book: Ginger and Honey)

Clouds are on top for a reason. They float so high because they refuse to carry any burden!

Dear 2016, If I had any defeats in your team, I am glad they were on my terms. Love, Defeated Winner

Dear 2016, If I has any defeats in your term, I am glad they were on my terms! Best, The Defeated Winner

Dear Waves, You have been restless all your life? Or maybe uneasy? I don't know quite. Oscillating between faiths, swinging between shores! Yet when we sit next to you on those sands, do you never feel like sharing what bothers you so much?

Distrust won’t do good to you. But still if you ever do. Doubt you husband, Maybe doubt your wife. But never suspect, your kid’s father, or the mother of your child.

Disturb my sleep but darling don't dare disturb my dreams!

During the late nights, when my eyes are a little sunken, and heart is a little full. When my brain is a little poetic, and soul is a little dull. I pull, my phone and scroll, the Instagram. At that moment I feel how I, don't belong. Not to this. Not to this, which is everything perfect and everything bliss. The uphill battle, the tough grind, the donkey work- we all do. and we all want to decline. We end up opening Instagram, to put up a false pretty ME, and a fake perfect AM

Each drop that fell, had a story to tell. each smile that curved, said a million words. (Poem: Our Existence, Book: Ginger and Honey)

Embrace your imperfections. Fancy your flaws. Flaunt your blemishes. Adore your birthmarks. Laugh off glitches. Discuss your setbacks. Don’t call your mistakes ‘Regrets’ Call them ‘Lessons

Entrepreneurship is a scary city! NO water- dig wells, NO food- plant trees, NO family- build one, NO identity- prove yourself.

Entrepreneurship is not a career choice, its a way of life!

Entrepreneur starts with an exaggeration, converts to a dream and then ends it with a vision!

Failure should be archived in head, not heart!

First, the thoughts are chosen, then the prayers are spoken. The candles are lit, then the plea is submitted. But soon after you move away, there is wax; melting, adulterating and braiding- a new constellation up on your blanks.

Follow the ideal doing, grind the beans just before brewing. Use spring water, for softened water, makes a horror. A parley perfect, between the coffee, and the milk, with some, brown sugar thick.” (Poem: An apology of a coffee lunatic, Book: Ginger and Honey)

Forgotten Stars. Time in the Flame. Missing Shard. The Only Rain. Door of the Memory. Waves in the Silk. Silent Birch. Thoughts of Lunatics. Secret of the Flowers. Soaring of the Souls. Heart in the Night. And a Kiss Unfolds. Forgotten Voyager. Voyage in the Words. Nothing of the World. Someone of the Hemisphere. Trembling Stones. Sucking Tears. The Next Gift. The World in the Kisses. Missing Angels. The Woman of the Girl. Guardian of the Rings. Thorn in the Pearl. Whispering Sword. Touching exclaim. Soul in the Truth. Heat in the Flame. Thy name, my name, Thy name! Came. Became. To Remain.

For once, engulf, not air, but hope. For once, breathe on, a firm belief!

Hanging conversations, uncertain observations, incomplete imaginations. Unsent text messages, unreplied mails, undecided calls, unattended places. Unsettled pledges, distant searches. Some underutilized wages, some unseen dreams, sitting on dried leaves, believing the unbelieved… bidding adieu, to the accepted, how much she wanted to do, what was, detested!

He is deaf, and keen to accept, any economical operation, that will correct his situation. He visited the doctor best, and started talking on subject, like the after-effects, and if any threats. The doctor medically checked, and asked him what he expects? He expressed, he wants to be addressed- in words, and not in signs. And how keen he is, to have his ears listening. He wants to listen the echo of, sun-set over that crimson dawn. He is keen to know, the sound of, a blooming rose. He wants to know what it sounds like, when a seedling grows. But Doctor- if you say: You are incapable, then I better get away, for then there is- nothing worth to be heard, in your seemingly wordy world.

He isn't the best, neither am I. But we are the best version of ourselves with each other. And that's pretty close to Perfection.

Her question was clear- “Father, where does the Loss reside?” In the sighs? Cheeks with tears wiped? A lost appetite? Owning a room confined? Or in the smiles all falsified? Thus, the Father decide, It is no matter to hide, he replied- “I think its deep inside, Probably, In the layers of your soul, Where the body provides it, Ample food to be- Magnified, multiplied, intensified. But once you clarify, That its not to be occupied inside, It starves of supplies, And dies. So child, when there is loss, Make sure you refuse to invite it inward, And absolutely never make it your lifelong parasite.

How destiny plays games so thrilling, both stay in the same building. His books declared for the best seller of the year, and she lives in the apartment to his but upstairs. He is making fame, she has committed suicide severe. The same window of the tall building instigated, such varied colors. In the woman-frustration and fear. In the man- an inspiration so rare. They share the same height, same sight, of the same building. From which, one flew like kite and the other down right.

How I look to you is the reflection of how you look at me.

...I day dream. Therefore, I am the queen, of my thoughts. Though thirteen, I drift, between, one conception, to another. I create opinions, liberate dilemmas, assert convictions, deal paroxysm, create perfections.” I am neither, a thinker, nor a, perceiver, I am a Day Dreamer...

Identity is not the face, Identity is not the trait, Neither is it the success pace, Nor is it the personality grace. Let alone it being your cliché phrase, Or did you think, It’s some religious faith? My child, it’s alarming that it’s none, It’s even not tongue, Then how can it be, what problems you have overcome And the person you have become!

Identity is not the face, Identity is not the trait, Neither is it the success pace, Nor is it the personality grace. Let alone it being your cliché phrase, Or did you think, It’s some religious faith? My child, it’s alarming that it’s none, It’s even not tongue, Then how can it be, what problems you have overcome And the person you have become! This confused the little girl, and she was amidst a complex whirl, of thoughts, ideas and questions…. What is it then, Father? You have declined already, all that mattered. I can think no more, of what makes an individual’s identity? Help me through, Help me carefully. (Poem: Identity, Book: Ginger and Honey)

I die a little everyday, in trying to revive what I lost yesterday!

I don’t have any fancy story, about the way we fell in love. It was that one awkward move, and the next I remember, I was looking at you. I don’t have any fancy allegory, about how we decided to marry, It was over the deck of that cruise, that you made an awkward move, And the next I remember, I conceived in your eye, some purer truth, and I was looking at you. I don’t have any fancy history, about how I know you so deeply, It always was that one awkward move, which I have trusted to pursue. Who said lovers are complex? All you need is their, one awkward move. Their soul in an instant, is engulfed, In that one tick of drool. That’s all what love is, that one awkward move, which is only meant only for you.

I don’t have any fancy story, about the way we fell in love. It was that one awkward move, and the next I remember, I was looking at you.

If only one day, their worlds could meet, just halfway. She would outplay, the distance rest, blaming the roads, led her astray. But only if, they could meet, just halfway.

I found myself when I least expected you- at the same old rocking chair in the room with the same flavor of tea. The only difference was the tea had turned cold, just as life had. And I found myself with an option. I could abandon this tea anytime and make a fresh one. You see?

I have a lot of, unfinished poems. And all of them are like, some love affair, that started too quick, and died too young. Each incomplete art to me, is like a memory lane, of an insane passion, that words, couldn't explain, and colors couldn't contain.

I have fallen, for your words. They are like, a gossamer cobweb, I have been, embroiled, decoyed, snared into! Incapacitated. I fail to escape. I fail to liberate. Your words, didn't redeem, made me a, captive instead.

I have started looking into the mirror more often. I have pigmentation, a few blemishes. My body never looked like this, never felt like this- heavy, tired, exhausted, swollen, achy, weak. There are a million reasons to not like myself right now. But one reason that outgrows all these emotions- I am the first home to my baby. A woman can dislike her body, can she really dislike her baby’s abode? Therefore, I love the way it’s swelling- it gives my baby’s tiny arms and legs more space. I love the way it’s pigmenting, it gives my baby better protection from the sun. I love the way it’s exhausted, it prioritises baby’s nutritional requirements over mine. And I would love all the stretch marks in the end too. That’s my baby’s name plate at his first home.

I'll keep looking- till that watery reflection of mine in your eye, rolls down as a tear. I'll keep looking till we finally look away like our lives never met. Let's cheat destiny as if we never knew each other. Let's do this last thing together.

I love Pizza thicker, when the crust is thinner!

In a corner you condense yourself and cry- in the same corner you caress and kiss. Life is this, something different each time.

In the fall of leaves, In the hustle of breeze, In the curve of streams, I foresee, Nature keeps more concealed, Than it lets us peep!

In this, journey, of reaching, to myself, I have had, many a, thoroughfares, goodbye affairs, reality checks, and, lovely overwhelms.

…I turned off, my phone. And realized, now it looks, no better, than, a piece of stone….” (I am thankful, Ginger and Honey) “Because I am blessed, To gather time, in hearing, my breath, so tranquil. To life, I am, thankful.” (Poem: I am thankful, Book:Ginger and Honey)

It was in the horizon of existence, that the Big Bang must have created our souls, we loved each other like the plane of time doesn't hold a fleck of control over us.