Categories
Poem Uncategorised

Endangered adolescence

By: Vaishnavi

The implausible wishes of an adolescent,
Riding on Unicorns and cuddling dolphins,
While their peers, tantalising them,
Unaware of the fact that they too shall face the same fate.
.
When can I meet Santa, they questioned in glee,
For, they entrusted him to deliver their presents by midnight
Their smile melts your heart,
for all they wish is to ride a reindeer,
With well-shaped beautiful antlers and a red nose
.
This being just the beginning,
Their childish desires know no bounds.
For, in their whimsical world,
Even a mere toy seems to understand their gibberish.
.
Tiny objects seem more lifelike,
The sight of colours amuses them.
They yearn to dance on rainbows,
and enchant those around them.
.
A small present or a mere gesture,
be it a candy or a simple hug seems amusing,
They are simply bundles of joy.
So jejune and puerile,
Their imagination is truly fascinating,
Each day they have irrational wishes.
.
Their innocence needs to be preserved,
before they break free and come out of their shells,
As they grow more mature and leave behind their childishness,
They look back at this chapter of their life and wonder,
Was I really that doltish?
For, now all they dream about is their present goal.
“ I miss the old me”‘, they sigh!
Their innocence is now long gone.

Categories
death feelings humans Lessons life Love people personal Poem story

A ballad for the love of death.

By: Ashar

I heard a sound, as faint as her tone

The sun was as shy, the river was nigh

For the world was in a spiral, a story for one’s dawn

I drag by my reflection across the sands of her bly

.

Caught my eye, bright as the sun flickering by the ocean

Fresh as her soul was the dress she wore, ashen

The air gazing through my chest spout out alive

Ah! But her heart was of stone, she could not thrive

.

A story of betrayal, sorrow, and love

It was what made us whole for each disfigured

To each of their own, the darkness came from above

Images dancing of our hands together, walls lingered

.

Golden hair, purple eyes, mango residue

A gentle smile, soft-touch, there were only a few

Warm lighting, cozy was her sensation, innocent like a barn owl

Writing about her I wonder who was she under her cowl

.

Running through the park, memories rewritten, like a dandelion shawl

Giggling and looking at each other, oh! did we fall.

.

She might be gone, fixed was she, for I was broken once more

By my dishonesty, I don’t understand why she has to go

Young was her spirit, or so spoke her lore

Everything seems clear, blinded by the snow

.

It was as if yesterday she was my guardian

Couldn’t see for she was my grim reaper

Shredded once again, I started to wonder

.

Who was she when I first met her, I heard the accordion

Who were are we really?

Categories
change feelings Poem Thoughts Uncategorised

Ascended Reality

by:Anshuman

It’s a privilege to be able to live, that much is true

I’m special just for being born into this world, who can argue

Yet I feel no gratitude inside my special body

Hating this world, may be too melodramatic but it has become a hobby

You can’t prevent me from feeling extremely bitter

Especially as I relate my entire existence to discarded litter

What a waste of energy it is to breathe in this society

So don’t blame me when I try to ascend this very own reality 

Where everything feels magical as I’m stuck in my self-made fantasy 

I can write my own story to create results that are so satisfactory

Every moment of this simulation feels real and so damn perfect

The people here are flawless and true, people with whom I have a connect

Maybe that’s why it hurts when I forget all of it is fake

Having unreal expectations from people who never matched them in the first place was perhaps, a mistake

I feel like I’m a success in this fake world as I do everything I dreamt of and more

Meanwhile in reality I’m just laying in my bed, dreaming while my body feels sore

Feeling low and depressed for no other reason but my delusional mind

Which has written everything so damn thoroughly the actual reality now feels so confined

Being out with friends where I’m supposed to be happy, joyful and most of all I should be grateful

Yet here I am zoning out trying to ascend once again to the world where I’m not hateful

Burdening myself with a lone wolf act as I push people away for no apparent reason

Never feeling I can connect permanently as my mind brings forth its grievance 

With the world around me being as it is and not how it should be in my authored story

The story where instead of being a bore I manage to grasp at glory

Realisation slowly crawls on me that this story isn’t a perfect world realised but rather an excuse

A simulation to hide in, one where I may be of some use

For even when there exists a person I can finally permanently connect with, find peace as I drop my disguise 

The over-dependence on a single source of happiness can oftentimes lead to its demise

The truth is that this ascended reality isn’t a haven but rather a prison

Where my doubts, fears, and insecurities haven’t been quenched but rather they’ve arisen

It’s time I face the truth and accept the cold hard fact

For as much as I pretend and hide, this is a concept that really isn’t that abstract

As in the dreams of an idealised flawless future that is better than my past

I’m sleeping on my present and letting my dark emotions everlast

Categories
change people personal Poem Self story World

Stories Under The Sun

by:C

There’s a story I want to write about a man

Who lives in the house next to mine

Or in the house across the street

Or about a butterfly that interweaves a pattern

Around the pointed edges of a fern in my backyard;

A pattern that almost resembles a cocoon.

On most afternoons I see you before me,

Sweat glistening brighter than the rays of sun that

Burn dreams to a crisp outside.

In the moments I don’t see you, I envision you lying next to me,

Your face in close proximity.

Aren’t mirages supposed to cease?

The stories I want to tell never want to be told by me.

I want to write about how the man in the house

Stares at the butterfly every morning as he steps out

To collect his day’s newspaper;

How I am unsure if the butterfly dances for him

Or if he buys the newspaper as an excuse to witness

The former’s grace.

Of course, there are obvious plot holes in this story.

The butterfly wouldn’t live long enough for this to become

A habit for the man, and men do not need

Newspapers as an excuse to glance at a thing of beauty.

In the past, I wanted to be the kind of poet who describes

Her lover with only the most exquisite of metaphors

But I’ve realized I might not be the kind of person who

Likes to talk about her lover or even call someone her lover

For that matter.

To be honest, I’m not even a poet in the first place.

The thing about the sun is that you don’t talk about it.

It is enough to bathe in its presence,

To feel its rays on your skin even when you’re not looking.

It is enough to know it sustains you even when it is beyond 

Your hemisphere’s line of sight.

What I mean is,

On my most afternoons, when I press my eyelids shut,

You’re the glowing sphere of light at the back of my mind

And maybe for tonight, that’s the only story I need.

Categories
books change chilling conspiracy Efforts feelings growing up Guide language Lessons life

Pronounsville

by:Tharun

There once lived a people, in a quaint little town. Called by the name Pronounsville, on no map could the place be found. The people couldn’t care less about, because neither was anyone moving in and nor anyone moving out.

Every facility here was common for all, be it the gym, the school, or the newly opened mall. The people of Pronounsville were an interesting lot. “Our is the mechanic, sturdy and tall.”, shouted out Them, spouse to It and chairperson at the Pronounsville Town Hall.

“Nothing in this town is owned, yet nothing is free ”, is the motto every Provillian follows to the T. Everyone looks out for Eachother, partially because Eachother makes Everyone’s heartbeat with glee. “Please do not mistake us for communists!”, peeped out Who, trying a hand at comedy.

But just as every happy story has to come to a close, the people of Pronounsville were leading down a rocky road. Out of nowhere, Us, the gatekeeper of the town heard a knock on the door. “Can I get your name to alert the chairperson?”, asked Us with an unassuming force. “The name is I. That’d do the job I suppose.”

“Pronounsville is a place unknown to most and visited by none”, said a puzzled Them, trying to put together one and one. “We have our own means and sources to get the job done.” We? “Yes of course! It’s not just I who’s come. Along with I are Me and Myself, and we’re here to have some fun.”

“The town’s motto is quite nice and sweet. But if I were, to be honest, this motto has become slightly obsolete.” For the first time ever, the Provillians were outraged and fuming with heat. “Please do not get offended, by all of this nothing personal do we mean. With Me in town, I (and) Myself will spruce things up and get Provillians back on their own two feet!” 

As naive as they come, Provillians entrusted the trio to complete the task. With no one to object and no one to ask, Me, Myself, and I tore the town apart. Now nothing was common and nothing was shared, “mine is mine and yours is yours” was the new motto to chant.

Soon enough Pronounsville fell out of rhyme.

I was oblivious.

Nothing mattered to Me.

There wasn’t anyone but Myself to blame. In the process of playing with Prounsville’s future, I had forgotten the name of the game.

Categories
change chilling life Love people personal Poem Self story Thoughts Women World

His Absence

by:Panthalassa

His eyes spoke more than his mouth, 

I don’t know whether it was my thoughts, 

My reflection, in those eyes

Or that was his own?

I don’t know if he loved me the most?

But I know, I know for sure, that I loved him the most!

.

.

There’s more flesh & blood walking same foot with me, 

Closer beings around me I care about but

But his Absence seems a lot to be filled by these all.

.

.

And know that dear I will wait for you in each life, I swear!

I am not sure I will recognize you or not, 

I am not sure you will remember our connection or not, 

I am not sure you will come to me or not, 

But I am sure that I need you to come. 

.

.

I called you ‘handsome’, I meant that with all my 5 senses;

You are still the best boy I ever laid my eyes on !

.

.

You were the most graceful of any of your loyal kind,

.

.

I believed that you will die along minutes, hours, days & years with 

My fading memories but I was wrong, 

True! My memories are fading like it always does

But your absence is living by consuming mine inside,

.

.

It’s making me hollow !

.

.

But I am waiting, I am waiting for your love to fill me from inside

Cell by cell, feeling by feeling, it will;

.

.

I hope it does.

.

.

Because I know my love for you is stronger than your absence, 

Stronger than the absence of your touch, 

Stronger than your irritation for me, 

Stronger than your protectiveness for your food !

.

.

It is the strongest force in the universe!

It’s infinity times stronger than the strong nuclear force !

.

.

But my lord, that damn painful fact stands true 

that I MISS YOU!

Categories
life people personal Poem Self story Thoughts Uncategorised World

A LETTER TO ALL WRITERS

by:Anjali

To all writers,

.

I am an archaic judge of your poetry 

balancing thy heart in the depths of my envy

Not envious of the talent you possess

I am a walking reincarnation of the papers you tore. 

.

I am often enraged at your passing gimmicks. 

The blatant disrespect remotely surprises me too, 

You carve your fervent poetry in my deep roots,

and with one syllable mistake, throw me in the rubble. 

.

But it is not just my voice calling out to you. 

It is our voices as we are littered all around you. 

The trash can at the other end of the room sighs too,

You could’ve given us a respectful burial, at the very least.

.

The words you write aren’t always yours

Inebriation is your only friend to get through. 

You weep when you string a few incoherent words,

then throw away the sheet tinted with your stained sorrow. 

.

I am not calling you out as you would think, 

I am merely calling you an emotional wreck. 

I might seem a little bitter now; In my defense, 

there wasn’t enough sugar in my coffee, to begin with 

.

But let me wrap up my note as soon as possible. 

I find it improbable that you’d acknowledge me anyways. 

I know that I am just a mere draft,

But could you please not throw me in the damn rubble? 

.

From, 

That sheet you crumbled and threw away

Categories
change Lessons life Love Opinion people personal Poem Self story Thoughts Uncategorised World

Second Thoughts

by:Aabirbhab

Yes, I got second thoughts

Under the radiant moonlight

I found a soothing darkness within it

And let it take control over my mind

It leaked from the broken window

Illuminating despondency within this child

Mortals chase me to stay by my side

Struggling to protect me from this infect

They mould my sadness to dexterity

And constructed a castle to protect

But what can a castle of sand do?

Under the shower the castle has no effect

I don’t know who will I trade with

My Perforate for their Perfect

When I see mortals being mortals

Yes, I live by my Second thoughts

But what else can I do?

When this low life has been bought

No CHEATING, No DECEIVING

Yes indeed I have tried and gave my all

But when I see mortals being immoral

Only thing I can do; is accept the deep dark fall

Every day I live the life of a rock

Unnoticed and kicked by pedestrians

And Every night I present myself

On the other side of the valedictorians 

I am auctioned 

By the amount of abuse I can possess

Physically I stand strong

But my sanity is broken into pieces

I can’t write any more for anyone

My pen ran out of ink today

I craved on the paper with an invisible ink

Yet no words will be casted on the screen today

I thought I will be missed; I will be adored

If I took a trip back to my comfort place

I forgot I was a pedestrian punted pebble

A nobody replaced by another face

That night heavens rained and rained

The dark clouds poured tears for me

I was long dead for them

But now at least the sinner was set free

I danced blissfully to the edge of the aisle

I hugged myself cuz I had no one else to

As i jumped off with a smile

As I fell I saw where I was standing

I saw a younger me looking back

He had no grief but he was disgusted

Then, I didn’t realized what I lacked

But then again those second thoughts

Came back to ask me:

The uncanny man walking along the breeze

“Is this where I am supposed to be?”

Maybe yes, maybe no

But I guess it’s too late to be afraid

Cuz the mortals found another one of them

Sleeping gleefully under a soothing shade

Categories
Justice life Poem society

Lady Justice

by: Tharun Jayaprasad

*Knock knock*, who’s at the door?

You do look familiar, have we met before?

Oh yes, how can I forget you!

You are just the person I was looking for.

Boy! how different you seem from what I had heard and seen.

Gleaming with honesty and those eyes draped in the fabric of impartiality,

Lady Justice, that’s how I hoped that you would have been.

Why is that now, the satin on your eyes lies tilted?

The eye covered, is turned away from the helpless cries,

The one peeking ensures the creatures who play you and wreck you, 

Stay untouched, undisputed.

Why is that now, the balance leans more to a side?

While one of them is empty, unsatisfied,

The other is well looked after, though lacking any rationale,

That makes you, for them, fight.

Why is that now, the sword which you once yielded to fight for the deserving,

Being used relentlessly by your namesake preachers,

To slash through the deprived to whom they say,

 “Preserving our faith is all that we’re doing.”

I’d heard that you bore no feelings for either.

Facts and proofs were the only tools which you used.

How I used to look up to you and admire,

But now I know,

Even a symbol like you can be tampered with and can be misused.

I’ve just realized how rude I’ve been,

Just like one of them,

Without even listening to your cause,

Tireless bashing I’ve been engaging in.

I ask you this with mighty astonishment,

What is it that has made you present?

Your reply compels me to think,

If not you then who is the one donning your stature!

Who is the one making the mighty ship democracy sink?

How is it that your power was stripped,

And who is the one that pushed you off the brink?

Sympathy is what I feel for your plight.

The horrors every day that catches your sight.

Rapes, murders, brutality and extremism,

All of which you could’ve plucked out.

Now all you can do is sit back,

With your long arms tied and your mouth shut tight.

Although, it does relieve me that you remain pure and just.

Bringing you back to authority is undoubtedly a must.

I hope that a Dawn will soon come,

When these wrongdoings come undone.

A time when the ones like me and you won’t have to keep mum.

When the lesser privileged will find a voice 

And the dish named Justice will once again be served hot, barring none.

Saying so, it’s time for me to bid you adieu,

Now that I know that still on our side is you.

Until the day of salvation,

I’m forced to write and not act,

Because nowadays, demanding for the truth,

Makes you an enemy of the fluttering saffron, green and in the middle, blue.

Categories
Love Poem Uncategorised

Curse of a Werewolf

By:Anshuman

Under the crescent moon

A lonely shadow emerged 

Shimmering in the moonlight 

It let out a howl 

A howl of sadness 

A howl of pain

A howl of longing 

A howl which marked it’s suffering

They say wolves are proud creatures

They say wolves are full of vain

Spreading misery around them

With their cursed bites causing change

Turning humans into werewolves, the most cursed beings 

For they are neither human nor animal

Nothing but an amalgam of shame 

Always referred in myths as evil creatures

Basking in the glory of the horror of their prey

Yet the truth couldn’t be further 

When it came to this lone wolf 

Like humans, wolves are many 

Many natures, many personalities

They feel love, they feel pain

By causing terror they have nothing to gain

As the sun came up on the horizon

As the night faded by 

The wolf changed form

Turning from a lonely beast to a lonely woman

Shunned by her village 

The poor girl moved on

It wasn’t her choice, this destiny of hers

It wasn’t her choice to have this pain inflicted on her 

The Japanese say the moon spirit too is a girl

Driven from her home for her duty, she too is alone

Maybe this is why the werewolf and the moon are related, both of them are lonely spirits finding kinship in each other

The girl wanted this kinship

But not with the moon, for she couldn’t embrace it nor kiss it with the sweet taste of love

But only stare longingly at it as she cried about her woes

A werewolf fate isn’t one of pleasure 

This girl didn’t want more to share her pain

She wandered through the countryside 

Looking for a place to stay 

Found a nearby farm and fell asleep on the hay

She awoke hours later, expecting to find the angry owners of the farm

Yet the only face in front was that of a woman, who meant her no harm

With a pleasant smile that showed her dimples

With loose hair that wasnt’t shingled

She offered a hand to the lonely girl

Guided her back to her safe home

Gave her supper and some rest 

The werewolf however couldn’t help but fret

She had to get out, lest the moon come up

So she ran away as her wolfish side showed

Unbeknownst to her the kind woman followed

Witnessed her transformation from a girl to an abomination

Yet for the kind woman she was one soul

A soul of sadness, a soul of loneliness

She hugged the wolf with all her might 

Letting her know everything will be alright

The wolf didnt howl in sadness for once

But stayed lovingly in the embrace 

The new day came and as the sun shone

The lonely girl looked up to the kind girl

And realized, she may not be able to touch the moon but it mattered to her nonce

For she had found companionship in a rainbow

As the kind girl was all seven colours at once

Weeks turned into months into years

And the lonely girl ceased to exist 

For she had found a kindred spirit

With whom she spent the rest of her days

Laughing and kissing, the couple was madly in love 

So strong was their passion the lonely girl forgot her troubles 

She kissed the kind girl fiercely and she returned the favour

And they spent the night becoming one

Yet such was the curse of the lonely girl

Come morning she looked in horror

The bite mark on the neck of her lover

This werewolf had found her prey

Marking her with love instead of hatred

But marking her all the same 

Fulfilling her destiny of spreading pain the girl cried in shame 

Running away from her haven

Her destiny fulfilled the moon called her back

And she permanently changed into the beast she knew she always was

For her selfish desires had caused another life to lose its joy 

But not in the way she imagined 

The bite mark had never bothered the kind girl for she loved the werewolf, even if she became the same

The kind girl searched for her, eventually finding the lone wolf

She cried in joy running to the wolf and kissing it’s snout

Yet the wolf didnt respond the same

For the lone wolf had lost memories 

As she had fulfilled her destiny and turned into this beast of pain

The kind girl wept in sorrow at the loss of her love 

As night approached both of the lone wolves now howled in the pain they shared

A howl so fierce it scared away the birds

For the moon had now claimed both of them as hers.