You clutch onto it— the little light in the dark. You chase after it, yet stand still when it parts. You offer everything for that presence; a short-lived moment of honesty alive. Is it a wish that craves or a need that braves, this strong faith in a passing mate. A stubborn impulse, an idealistic leap— when you mute all doubts and chose to believe. A joy that mourns, a hope that burns but still takes flight knowing well its plight. I still look up— when hope comes by, and lo

It was by chance that I came across a scanned copy of a poem I had written during my UG days, which I believed to have been lost forever. As a class, we were asked to create a class magazine that would feature literary and artistic works by the students in our class, taking inspiration from the texts we studied in the syllabus. Paintings, sketches, poems, cartoons and other creative submissions came forth, and every student in the class contributed. My contribution was a poe

Today in class, our professor introduced us to a new form of poetry called Erasure poetry or Blackout poetry. We were reading the poem Refugee Mother and Child by Chinua Achebe for our Postcolonial Studies paper and were asked to interpret the poem. While everyone pondered over the words, Sir encouraged us to write our own sentences or poems from the given text, by selecting a word from each line. Erasure poetry or blackout poetry is one where "... a poet blacks out or in

It’s okay love Stay where you are, I’ll come towards you.   All I ask Is that you face my way To light my path to you.   The wait is long, Covering the miles of two Slowly but surely, getting there.   Know no art Of stuffing love in gifts To send your way.   I’ll carry them In my heart, And let you in to see.   To love for both, I have the strength But not for too long.   So when you’re strong you take my hand And hold me close to you.

Waking with aurora I observe the still gloom around me. I lay in bed with an empty heart, countless thoughts yet nothing to do.   I amble around the house aimlessly,but not restlessly. Relishing the prevailing silence with serene contentment.   The spirits of solitude lent their ears to my thoughts. Like a patient mother in contemplative silence.   With books that captivate my mind and music that nourishes my soul, I reside in my immanent realm cherishing the blithe moment.  

A shell of a girl dragged her body to school - morning after morning, regretting every breath. A smart child was sent cowering back to her shell, where she built a fortress to push the world off her head. This was the girl as a child. Year after year, she searched for this child, till yearning and mourning led to utter despair. Seeing no way of return to her past self, she lost all hope and waited for the end. Her self became contemptuous and life a burden. She felt misplace

I hear it again, her wails That strikes my chest, From within.   She holds my heart, Her fingers squeezing To push out the anguish. She is reaching out to whom? So desperately…and furiously! It is just me, the night, and the moon here.   Twisting and turning I'm tangled in the sheets Like caught by a snake. It's cold, so cold… But within, it’s colder Like a mortuary.   I’m the one She is choking Yet, we both can’t breathe. She is fighting my mind That neglected our heart And

I wish to visit the brightly lit town of my long-buried memories. But I am afraid to pass by  the dark alleys of my buried hopes.   Memories are often mixed up, such that we cannot separate the good from the bad.   My destination is a small place surrounded by miles of misery,  where I wish not to set foot on.   If I take a peek into my pouch of happiness, it might pull me into a universe of pain.   Not looking back is the wisest choice. The choice of the logical mind. But th