• Poetry,  Writing

    Poem: Cotton clouds

    Soak up all dreams
    Cotton clouds above
    Sweet like sugar
    Leaves a bitter taste
    When they’re gone
    Fill the void
    The hole in my soul
    One by one
    Illuminating my aura
    Light up my flame
    Fill my heart
    Every heartbeat
    Pumping harder
    Just to feel a moment
    To feel alive

    Peace and Love,
    Kimmi

  • Poetry,  Writing

    Poem: Azure

    I whispered to the universe
    I looked near and far
    For the ticket
    Unlocking the portal to your heart
    Losing myself in contemplation
    Gaze into the azure
    Searching for signs
    Floating away
    In the clouds above

    Expanding hearts
    Beat as one
    Illuminating, in flames
    One by one
    Each element flare up
    Light years from here
    Beyond earthly delights
    No less than an,
    Ecstatic eternal passion.

    Saturn, Landscape, Terrain, Water, Waters, Planet
  • Poetry,  Writing

    Poem: Mystery called Life

    This dreamlike atmosphere
    Hypnotic dimension
    Romanticizes, and
    Awakens you
    From this mad
    State of trance
    Joining consciousness
    Far into the abyss
    Far from this mystery
    This world we call
    Life.

    Bury all memories
    Float away
    Like a cloud
    Into the ether
    Don’t dig deep
    Into the past
    Of what could have been
    Imagine
    Create a new dimension
    Dream it
    into life.

    Peace and Love,
    Kimmi Sandhu

    Eye, Creative, Galaxy, Collage, Flowers, Paint
  • Poetry,  Writing

    Poem: Jigsaw Puzzle.

    Listen. To the silence.
    The space, between souls.
    Feel. Beating of the hearts.
    Across, space and time.
    Between satellites.
    We’re transmitting. Emotions.
    Feelings of love, pain and hurt.
    There is no trust. It’s broken.
    Gather up my pieces.
    Hand them over, to you.
    Just like a jigsaw puzzle.
    The healing has begun.
    One piece at a time.

    The people recluse to their spaces.
    Time, what is time?
    Waiting, endlessly. For an answer.
    Someone to hold hostage.
    When will they,
    Give our freedom back?
    Calling out in vain.
    Voices heard.
    But no one answered.
    Not even you.
    Swimming backwards.
    Blood red sea.
    Searching for the shore.
    Waiting for the dawn.
    Knocking on the door.
    Bring me back. To you.

    Peace and Love,
    Kimmi

  • Poetry,  Writing

    Poem: Windows to your Soul

    Memories remain
    Etched in my brain
    The windows to your soul
    Looking right through me
    Witnessing,
    My heart beating in tune
    With yours

    The reasons remain
    Buried deep inside
    No need to speak
    No need to explain
    To our souls
    They already know
    Telepathically
    Transmitting
    Messages of another world
    Another universe.

    Peace and Love,

    Kimmi Sandhu

  • Dreams,  Personal,  Thoughts,  travel

    Roots | Mumbai Diaries

    Roots. What a peculiar thing that can affect us so much when we least expect them to. I thought I had worked through a lot of my inner struggles with roots and identity by this age but I was so wrong. Why do I keep coming back to this country, why can’t I let it go? My father left India almost 50 years ago and I as an adult keep coming back as if something is pulling me here. Is there a stronger energy at play here that wants me coming back? What is the purpose of me feeling this way? 

    There are two days left of my trip and the emotions are already building up, that I am going back and leaving this behind. Once again, just like any other year, I am travelling back to Sweden. My home. Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for my life in Sweden and that’s all I have ever known to be my home. But I have never felt that I fully belong there, there’s just that big chunk of both my heart and soul never able to belong to Sweden and it is always left behind in India. I come back to try to find my pieces every year to try to feel whole. I have also started to accept that it might be difficult for anything to ever fill that void of never belonging anywhere. The trick is to find ways to cope with this empty feeling. 

    When I land in Sweden and travel back to my apartment on the smooth empty highways, it’s always a bittersweet feeling. I feel emotional over the fact that I have left something behind but at the same time I am embracing what is so familiar to me. The life in Sweden. What gets to me each time, is that I notice that my clothes smell like India and the scent of Sweden is so different. The air is much lighter. There are no noises from traffic, no unnecessary honking going on. One would think that it’s something you’d never miss about India, but it’s exactly these things that make India come alive. It’s never sleeping and you learn to be mindful and unbothered by the scents, the noise, the crowd and everything that happens at once. Once you get mindful and one with it all, it creates this feeling of presence and bliss that we have all heard people mesmerised with India talk about. The hippies. 

    Even right now when I am typing this, I am sitting in my bedroom in our shared flat and the windows are closed. But you can hear everything from the streets four floors down in the middle of the city centre of Colaba, Mumbai. During a few wee hours in the night it goes quiet before the city wakes up to the organised chaos. I am not someone who easily get attached to places, I like to keep my memories of people and places normally and that is what I bring with me everywhere I go. But there has always been something with Mumbai that has pulled me in. I believe it’s the contrast between the rest of India that I’ve seen (which is not much compared to how much is left to see) and the India that exists in Mumbai. There’s a vibe in this town that is hard to match elsewhere. Perhaps I am a romantic Pisces that only likes to focus on these pink cloudy thoughts whenever I describe this town, but I am positive that I am not the only one who thinks this way. Obviously it’s not the jammed traffic, the high air pollution and crowded areas that make you love this city. It’s what language it speaks to you when you listen carefully with your ears and your heart. What is the soul of this place? Does it connect with you? Why?

  • Poetry,  Writing

    Poem: The Other Side

    Cleanse my soul
    Breathe it in
    The essence of life
    Immerse me in this love
    This flow of energy
    That travels through my veins
    From red to white
    I’m lit up from within
    One light bulb after another
    Close my eyes to see
    You stare into my soul
    Through these dimensions
    With walls so thick
    Where no one has ever been before
    You look into my eye
    My sixth sense of perception
    Tell me it’s alright
    Walk with me
    Holding my hand
    To the other side
    Where we would be free
    In another world
    In another life.

    Kimmi Sandhu

    Färg, Rök, Rainbow, Design, Kreativa, Färgstarka