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!
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.
The Silent Voice
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.
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.
Such Is Life
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.
The Last War
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.
When Life Gives A Chance
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.
Ishaan Garg is a positive boy of 19, who hails from the heritage city of Gwalior and is currently studying at Christ University, Bangalore. The habit of writing developed accidentally, when he was somewhat in a state of stress. His writings decode the reality of life, world and the holistic learning, he received from the society, and also one’s understanding towards it.
I
कुछ सुनने की तलभ थी, दिल ही दिल हसीन सपनों से भरी एक नदी थी, इशारों भरे समझौतों में वो बेशरत प्यार कि बर्नी थी, उसके हाथों में मेरा हाथ देख, वक़्त की भी साँसें थमी थीं, इन सबके बीच, बस उस प्यार के इहज़ार की कमी थी, जिसे सोच कर मेरी दिल की धड़कने भी सहमी थीं, कुछ ऐसी उनकही सी थी वो प्रेम कथा, जिसकी दास्ताँ सिर्फ़ ख़ुदा के दरबार में बनी थी।
II
कुछ बातें अनकही सी, दिल ही दिल दफ़न हो जाती है, होंटों तक आती है, पर बयाँ नई हो पाती है, कहो, तो सज्जन्नों को तख़लीफ पहुँचाती है, ना कहो, तो मनुष्य को अवसाद के चक्रवूयह में फाँसती है, क्या वर्चस्व है, ऐसे लोकतंत्र का, क्या महत्व है, इंसानियत से भारी भावनाओं का, जब दिल ही दिल, चंद अनकही बातें, मनुष्य का बहुमूलए जीवन, उससे छीन जाती है।
III
गुमनामी की सरहद पर भटकता, एक प्यार का प्यासा जीव, बस एक ख़्याल दौहरता, गुनगुनाता, पल भर बस यह सोचता, यह क्या ज़ुल्म है जो समाज को बर्दाश्त नहीं, यह क्या वाक्य है जो आज की आराधना नहीं, यह क्या गुण है, जसकी कोई शिक्षा नहीं, यह कैसा प्यार है, जिसमें कोई बंधन नहीं, यह कौनसी इंसानियत है, जिसमें कोई मानवता नहीं, क्या यही है मौजूदि दुनिया, जिसमें स्नेही प्रमाण नहीं, या यही वो भरम्माण है, जिसमें बसी गुमनामी कहीं।
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.
That Night
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 …..
Good With Words
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.
Young Love and The Rain
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.
" Young Writers' Collective" 