Crown of wild, unruly curls
Heart of fickle fire
Soul with the wilful wings of want
She was no angel nor devil
But oh , oh why would she ever be just a human?
She was so much more ….
Life in evermore !
She was the beyond, the belief, the beauty
And so much more ….
Life in evermore !
~ By Kaisera Kanwar
By Ishaan Garg
When I walk down the lane,
I often sense the pain,
That I tried a lot to save,
But all in vain.
When I walk down the lane,
A thought hits my brain,
Those bats of twenty-two yards,
Are no more in the game.
When I walk down the lane,
I see the lake, its the same
Where the painting made of dove,
Turned into the feeling of love.
When I walk down the lane,
I feel the emotions turning plain,
When the tears roll when I cry,
She fondles my face with love,
And waits for the tears to dry.
When I walk down the lane,
I see the memories drain,
With the time sadly passing by,
I just wait for the lady to call,
We are ready to fly.
I won’t walk down this time,
Because it’s time for me to fly high,
Bidding my gracious childhood,
A final goodbye!
~
VIOLET
We were one in body and soul.
INDIGO
We stood together never breaking apart.
BLUE
After they tried to drown us you forgot how to breathe.
GREEN
Your thorns pierce my heart.
YELLOW
I search for another sun in my solar system.
ORANGE
Fall seven times. Get up. Eight.
RED
The wounds heal but the scars remain.
The 1st day
Sirens awakened the Moonman from his boozy slumber.
The 2nd day
His hangover left him soon after the rigid limbs were caressed by the mortician.
The 3rd day
A flutter of paper, stuttering sex workers and clicks of a pen droned for hours at end.
The 4th day
The Moonman was desperate. He fought. He argued. He hit, again. He killed, again.
The 5th day
She wasn’t found, she wasn’t as important. But the gun was.
The 6th day
The solemn, smoking sergeant knew enough to guess, but still too less.
The 7th day
The Moonman ; a crescent inked onto his neck and a face just as cratered with scars and pockmarks. Repeat offender. Madman. Drunkard. Lost soul. 6ft 3 inches.
The 8th day
He chose bottles of booze to escape rather than boats. He could have, he just didn’t.
The 9th day
The sergeant was ready to tighten the noose. Evidence in place, bullets in case.
The 10th day
The moonman heard whispers around the brothel and bar. They were coming for him.
The 11th day
He sat next to the sea. Fight or flight, all his life.
The 12th day
They found him. He found her. She found eternal silence.
~
After all he was hunting for a star to shine with him in the pitch dark. (Misery loves company)
She was corrupted as was he and in that lay their destiny…..
~
Saloni Sharma lives in New Delhi and likes reading mystery novels. She is also interested in art. She uses poetry to express her thoughts and emotions.
By Saloni Sharma
I try to speak
But I can’t find my voice
I try to talk
But I can’t find my words.
Why am I so silent ?
I don’t know
In the maze of this world
Where am I supposed to go?
I have no voice
But I want to be heard
I can’t talk
But I want to sing like a bird.
I hear , I see
But I can’t rejoice
Because there has to be someone out there
Who can hear my silent voice.
Aryaman Kumar is an occasional writer, based near Pune (Maharashtra). He is inspired by strong opinions, beliefs and real life experiences. Human emotions find a significant foothold in his work. He hopes to be a medical professional in the future and raise awareness about medical illnesses.
By Aryaman Kumar
I was walking in darkness. I didn’t dare think about it, because then I would drown.
And if I started to drown, I know I wouldn’t be able to save myself.
Breathe.
Was all I could do. I was a ghost with a beating heart.
All around me, was the abyss of nothing. Yet, in the nothingness, there was everything. Every sort of pain.
The inescapable frozen claws of fear gripped me constantly, and I felt the cold, cruel, yet peaceful wave of emptiness flow over me.
Breathe.
I don’t know why. I don’t know why I kept walking aimlessly.
All I knew was
Breathe.
Why was I even breathing?
I collapsed, a single tear falling off my face and onto the destitute ground.
Until I saw the light.
Breathe.
The light was warm, and it chased away the demons that lurked in the shadows.It dried my tears, and sewed the pieces of my heart together.
Thanks to the light, I finally had a reason to
Breathe.
~
{ Title inspired by non-fiction autobiographical book written by Paul Kalanithi. }
By Aryaman Kumar
Tears roll down my eyes,
As I sit under starry skies.
The stars shine, in the deep black sky
I sit and stare, travelling anywhere
My mind’s a mess, for its under distress
Those memories hurt, as the mind crumbles.
All this serves to make me humble.
As I recollect my faults.
From those deep, deep vaults
I miss you still, my heart isn’t still.
It breaks and tears, along my stay
I do still cry though I’ve lost my way.
I do miss you still, and I’ve done this before.
I’ll break myself as ever more.
Thunder strikes
The skies break
The rains begin, with a brake
Even nature stares.
Ever all human and we make mistakes,
Only to lament after we’ve lost our stake.
The heart is beaten black and blue
The mind has vanished askew
The soul is lonely, pale and stale.
For it’s shut its doors on life and ale
I’ve grown to try and escape
But alas I can’t let go of my mistakes
Seeking redemption on every door
Will you but not answer my call ?
The promises made , will be kept
Tis for that , I have wept.
Feelings of disappointment pain and betrayal
Words said with out scale,
Meaningless as they are.
They still strike without care.
And I look beyond the valley
And fade away.
Aayush Gugnani is an amateur writer based out of New Delhi. He uses free style word play to express his political opinions and occasionally dabbles in poetry. He uses the world as his canvas and believes in expressing his thoughts and feelings openly.
By Aayush Gugnani
In the breezy summer
With the golden sun,
Shimmering at the horizon
I stood there in oblivion.
Standing at the worlds end
Waiting for you to come back,
I clinged on to my memories with you
Cherishing our moments as a pack.
What once was a dream for me,
Became a reality.
Once I was an ill fitted piece
Soon we became family.
We held each other in times of despair
And had each other’s back here & there.
Never had the world,
Seen such a ravishing pair.
We were unbreakable,
Like a covalent bond.
At least that’s what people said,
To which we replied it was a miracle of the gods’ wand.
Alas ! Now you’ve gone too far
Away from the gusty winds
Away from being what you were
Or who you are.
I’m not complaining for the woes
Happy you finally got what’s yours.
I’ll be there if and when you return
To fill your saddened pores.
Life without you in the beginning was tough,
Nights were endless and rough.
Though I learned to cope with them,
Yet, I wonder how can I pacify my sinking soul.
O how do I break myself from these shackled chains?
To go back to being what I really was.
Don’t ever think I’m not with you.
I’m an undercurrent,
You might not be able to see me
But in all your times of both happiness and despair,
I will be omnipresent.
Life’s a chaos without a pattern
One moment we’re here,
The other we’re not.
Yet, I try to maintain positivity in life.
Try to look up and find the northern light,
Look down to see the sea shimmering bright.
The haze maybe temporary,
But the maze is permanent.
Our laugh maybe fading,
But our love for each other,
Our love is effervescent.
Shiuli Sural is a young Indian writer based out of New Delhi. She mostly writes fiction, underlining a social message in her stories. Besides being an avid reader and writing, her hobbies include drawing, listening to music and cooking.
By Shiuli Sural
Ahoy there! The land approaches
The soldiers rejoice, the prisoner reproaches
They’ve come back from another battle
Destroyed houses, people and cattle
So the kingdom is now safe again
From enemies, treachery and disdain
The brave-hearts fought with all their might
To win each and every fight
But,
Those who had been martyred
On both sides, winners and losers
Shed tears for their families from above
They had been husbands, sons and fathers.
A war can never decide
Who is wrong and who is right
What is big and what is small
Who will rise and who will fall
What war does,
Is that it divides the world
Into more pieces and erects more walls
How can a broken heart ever rejoice
With restless nights and a dying voice
My world , my people, my near and dear
Let’s live in peace with love and care
Holding hands we all will say
That we renounce war from today
There are more pressing matters to be dealt with
Changing climate, rising poverty and filth
This beautiful blue mother Earth
Needs us to acknowledge her worth.
By Shiuli Sural
It was not long ago
When the world looked dark to me
It made me question myself
My life, my choice, my ability
I turned around, looking
For help to forget my strain
Instead I found, a white substance
An answer to my pain
I felt so high
Like I could almost fly
This was ecstasy
No more did I cry
My very own world
No one to be seen
None to be heard
Here, I was the queen
A day arrived
Though not all of a sudden
When this world of mine
Was ruled by Satan
What I’d created in a frenzy
Had now turned it’s back on me
It clenched my throat
How I choked and choked
In the ocean of despair
Was my life’s sinking boat
But,
Then a change that was long due
Came in little by little
And I started to realise
Why my life was so brittle
I reached out for help,
Support, hope and empathy
I found oceans of all this and more
In someone who saved me
My therapist proved to be
An angel in disguise
Light and love she made me see
And freed me from my ties
Now,
I see the world with hues of hope
And the earth bejewelled with light
My mind and soul dream and smile
I find joy in every sight.
Saanya Sodhi is a young writer, based out of New Delhi. Saanya uses free style poetry to give form to her feelings, thoughts and opinions. Love is one of her favourite feelings to give shape to through her writings. She wishes to grow more with each passing day as a writer. She goes by the pen name Spero and also uses the hashtag #speŕowrites🌼, to display her writings.
By Saanya Sondhi
At 5 in no time, I scroll through all my content apps,
I scroll through my social media
I see how songs from another age make my friends feel warm
I however lay here, in this infinite cold just scrolling.
I have so much content, content to go through, so many words to learn and study through
But all I want at this brink of dawn is to talk to you
Talk about how the universe was made, how the matter that’s light is not even one-fourth of this universe
And how we’re just a tiny speck, a nothing in that something.
How I’m something everywhere, but how I’m not everything
How my memories juxtapose at this time of the twenty four hours
I want to talk to you about the marvels of the universe and the marvel cinematic universe,
I want to talk of everything I know and listen to everything you have to say.
I want tell you about my fascinating horror of numbers
I want to tell you about my love letters, the ones I wrote to space.
I want to hear about your life and about your last love,
I can talk hours about love only if you’d like to listen….
I’ve written speeches on ambition, on dreams that are yet to take form,
I could tell you about how I’ve adored and waited for the stars when everyone I knew was busy clicking the sun lit sky.
Just like I waited for them I’ll even wait for you,
For that night to come one day when we’d talk about life, analyse Beauvoir’s works, appreciate Marsha’s existence
When we’d, undress each other’s scars and listen to our heartbeats and to our hidden muffled screams.
For that day when the galaxy will shine and the universe will align
I’ll wait for that night, for you to realise …..
By Saanya Sondhi
Good with words,
People say I’m good with words
How my words are raw and how I am great at putting alphabets in lines that make sense.
I’m still scared to go deeper with my cuts, more than I am scared to go deeper with my words
I think it’s a good thing, maybe for the world it is.
The colour red pacifies me when the ques of alphabets don’t
Maybe if I was gone, maybe then someone would see me.
I’m screaming for help
But the buds of their own life are between me and them,
Why am I too poor for them?
There’s a voice screaming in my head,
Laying, saying maybe I’m not worth it,
pictures showing maybe I’m not.
My conscious knows I believe in case studies, my mind making me my own.
I am my own victim, I am the universe’s victim.
But I can’t say it out loud.
Knowing that I don’t have happiness is so much easier to accept,
than knowing that I’m meant to give is so much beautiful than what it truly is.
Tears have put me to sleep more than sleep when it came to lie with me,
Screams have tired me more than fatigue,
when I saw starvation as a pretty look on me.
The voices that become miserable sounds in my head tell me that I am my own victim.
Those sounds overlap to become cries of help to no one listening.
I often wonder what can be more important than me on the verge of dying for them.
I often wonder where they are when I’m closer to the knife than I am to my bed on which I’m lying.
There’s not miles but even more of skin that I can see is wrong.
There’s this figure in the mirror that I can see is not worth it.
As I tip-tap my fingers on my screen my cheeks become wet,
as I pull down my panel to see my hopes fade away.
I shouldn’t, I know, I shouldn’t be angry,
but when I see them crying over a broken heart
I want to show my soul to them.
I want to show how no adherent could fix the cracks the shreds of black.
I’m closer to death than I’ve ever been to life.
By Saanya Sodhi
Young love makes me as happy as the feeling of my cotton dress on my legs, flying in the direction of the wind, going with the wind
I recently learned what a pluviophile is, euphoria took over me as I found another word synonymous with my name
The petrichor makes me feel at home even when I’m not, the wetness of the rain replaced tears on my cheeks
I feel happy in the rain, imagining and re-imagining scenes from movies that happened and from my life that never did
I see a lot of young love around me today, I’m at that age when the little girl that was always scared of the rain thought she would live through young love
But all I live is see and the only way I live, vicariously
I was once scared of the rain, I thought it would flood our homes, that was before emotions flooded my heart and numbness my body
I thought our house would break under the pressure of water but that was before the pressures of love and life scared me much more
I used to think after the rain only wooden boats could save us, the boats of hope have proven otherwise
The me then wanted to live to see love, the me today wants to live for the same
Just that then I was a girl who was in love with love, no complexities, no questions
And today I am the girl who wants to understand all about Aphrodite, Apollo and Inanna
I am heart broken and a boy didn’t break my heart.
Anoushka Radhakrishnan has been writing ever since she was ten years old and presently performs at various Slam Poetry events in New Delhi. She writes about feminism and mental health. She would love to publish her own book one day !
By Anoushka Radhakrishnan
I don’t wear dresses anymore.
I don’t wear dresses
because dresses have consequences.
I’m fifteen and I’m walking on the sidewalk next to my school,
I am wearing my school uniform
You’re twenty eight and driving a bike
I wonder what you think
before you cat call.
Do you think I’m a cos player?
Pretending to be underage?
Or do you think this is a porno?
Do you think I am walking in front of you
deliberately?
Hoping you’ll notice my
undefined body?
‘He’s just offering a compliment, learn to accept it.’
A compliment?
A compliment is
‘Hi, you look nice.’
‘You’re such a kind person’
‘I really like your smile.’
not
‘Hey, sexy! Wanna come with me?’
Haha, get the joke?
because clearly, he did too.
It’s a compliment?
Is that what your mom told you
when you were catcalled?
Is that what her mom told her when
she was catcalled?
That it is just somebody
appreciating
your femininity,
no.
He does not appreciate your beauty
and he doesn’t see you as a woman
but as
a toy.
a mannequin.
a doll.
You are not a doll,
You are a human being.
You were born in this world
to live
Not to feel uncomfortable
by someone else’s doings
and then be told
you are not uncomfortable,
a compliment does not make you
feel uncomfortable,
a catcall does.
It wasn’t a compliment then
and it isn’t a compliment now.
I’m fifteen.
I want to go home
happy and content.
I want to go to a party
happy and content.
I want to be
happy and content.
A compliment makes you feel
happy and content
a catcall makes you feel
disgusted
and dirty
and unsafe
and not human.
I am fifteen
and I am wearing my school uniform,
and I do not appreciate you
raking your eyes up and down
my body like it is a joyride,
a carnival.
no,
my body is not a roller-coaster,
my body is not candy,
my body is not yours to enjoy.
I’m fifteen,
I’m twenty,
I’m thirty,
I’m forty,
and I know the difference between
a compliment and a catcall
because
I know the difference
between
a person who respects me
and a person who wants to
drug me.
I know the difference between a compliment and a catcall
like I know the difference between
my home and that
god damn sidewalk.
I know the difference between
a compliment and a catcall
because I know the difference between
feeling good and
feeling dirty.
I know the difference between
a compliment and a catcall
just like I know the difference
between consented sex
and rape.
I know the difference between
a compliment and a catcall
because
there’s only one
that considers
my consent.
I know the difference between a compliment
and a
catcall
because both flatter me yet
there’s only one
I want to accept.
" Young Writers' Collective" 