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.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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!

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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 happen to the thoughts? Where do they get tossed? When they are forgotten? Scorched? Scoffed? Deformed? Unadorned?

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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 than5 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 amide 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.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

Avoid selling to dumb customers, there aren't enough left!

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

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

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber