Poems published in April 2018

Curseful Blessing

a poem by Vishnupriya S

Oh mankind!
Your eyes are filled with dust,
You are looking at me with lust.
I am not your feast,
Don’t try to attack me like a beast.
I do often pray,
But at last I became his prey.
My age is only seven,
But now I am in heaven.
Am I cursed or blessed?

The Story of Him

a poem by Mukesh Kumare

Dark was the space,
Fresh was the scar,
His heart was thumping soo loud,
That he was sure of not holding it for far;

Fear was in his eyes,
Confused was his mind,
He continuously asked himself,
Is it worth the sacrifice?

Then his heart became calm,
As he saw hope inside,
He said to himself,
Just let it go and don’t get fright;

He then took a leap of faith,
And from the blackest shadow,
In fraction of time,
He burst to become,
The Brightest Star;

His light conquered the dark,
Because it was now his time,
Though his eyes could not see,
But his soul was in every planet and every galaxy;

There were twinkling stars,
Shinning just like him,
They were spreading his rays of light,
To brighten every dim,

That was the power of hope,
Hope of creating some good,
Thus now he has become The God,
Strengthening every will,
And providing every food.

Frightening Sound

a poem by Mihika Sanjanwala

There once was a chital gazing around,
When he suddenly heard a sound,
A sound of footsteps,
Could it be human putting up snares?
Could his tale come to be magic?
Or would it be tragic?
Could it be his mother?
Or his friend another?
Gathering his tears,
And allaying his fears,
He imagined himself as the king of deer,
Which gave him some more cheer,
The brave chital bravely looked,
Guess what? It came to be a woodpecker hooked,
All this was noticed by another deer,
Who learnt, ‘Never judge the book by it’s cover!’

Voice of Asifa

a poem by Sinduja .

Your Asifa here, let me tell my story how my life has ended
They Kidnapped me at the age of playing hide and seek
They touched my chest when no hormones segregated
They pulled my underwear, which I do only to pee
Yes you guessed right, I haven’t reached puberty yet
They came closer to me one after one, slowly removed their clothes, all on top of me
I screamed… that was too heavy for me
I cried loud no one cared, neither did God
Finally
I lost my virginity without bleeding
Having the hope in my eyes, for someone to rescue me, I reached heaven…

The Irony of Our Times

a poem by Debasish Bhattacharyya

Is that we have bigger communities, but scarcer progressiveness
Wider revolutions, but lesser evolutions
We connect with people more, but rarely selflessly.

We have elite technology GAFA- Google, Apple, Facebook, Amazon
But little success in reducing poverty and inequity
More vulnerable to cyber-bullying, but less awareness
We are desirous of more modern gadget
But less sense of transitioning from affection to addiction
More time spending on screens, but less social abilities
More hard/software upgradations, but more feature-bloated new versions
More antivirus protection, but less security.

We have widened democratic norms, but squeezed together its spirit
We indulge in rhetoric, promise the moon, and then tend to forget soon
We are well versed in what it takes to outlast our rivals, but hardly fairly
We are good at clinging to power, but not powering people
We take pride in being the world’s largest democracy and trumpet
But slip in Global Democracy Index
We preach democracy to others, but soak up poor political culture
We claim to have just electoral system, but reluctant to electoral reform
We believe in more hyperbole, but less human betterment and uplift
We talk of just society but believe in political expediency
We take credits but turned democracy into a fig leaf to cover failures

These are the times of fraudsters, and crooks;
More money and only money.
These are the times of plastic smiles and laughter clubs
More songs, but less soulful; more luxury, but less contentment

These are days of Crèches and old age homes, but more heartlessness;
Of trafficking and child labor, but pseudo compassion
It is a time of religious abuse and medical abuse, and little fear

A time when life’s priorities are often at odds with each other

And a time when many are likely to ignore this, you decide

Either to ponder over it… or go back to living a mundane life.

Foundation

a poem by Kassan J Kassim

Broken bones upon empty sheets
Fighting cursing enemies
Trying so hard to survive

Trying to find peace amongst all this chaos
Yet journeying in this crazy life
And along for it’s much crazier ride.

Tell me the time so I can set my watch
To match the time for me to live again
Give me a dollar and a dream to lay a foundation on
But our end result of the future will never be the same

My first love, Mother

a poem by Rohit Verma

SHE
She’s my first love
From whom I can never be apart
She’s the one who’ll remain forever in my heart,
But let me tell you who’s SHE before I start.

SHE’s my mother
Who have never compared me with others,
She’s my mother
Who loves me more than my little brother.

But is she just a housewife
Who is only for cutting vegetables.
Does she not work hard
Like men do?

My father says she only cooks,
But she also take care of my books.
She gets up at 5 AM in the morning,
She protects me by a lovely warning.

When she’s too angry
She starts to cry,
Then tell me how can I keep my eyes dry.

One time
I had fallen from the stairs,
She was the only one who picked me up.
On that day she had not eaten even a bit of bread,
Because my head was stiched.

On the next day I was in a little bit of confusion,
That why she remained hungry for me,
Is her life is not more valuable than mine.

I know how that blanket
Comes above me from its place every night
Her heart is the one where I have a reserved space.

Her ten missed calls
Twenty texts
Sometime irritated me
But when the doctor is not there she was there who aided me

At last I just want to say
For her I have millions of prayers
She should live longer than I stay
She remains happy from June To May…

The Song of Swans

a poem by Abhishek Pandeyar

Hiding behind the shadows,
I see a shadow alive,
Mumbling slowly,
the tune of death.
“Dare who hath?
To be alive in my presence,
I am the dark, I am the crescent,
that shields the mark.”

An embodiment of demise,
wielding a sabre of black steel
Hunting shadows with a sash
Making souls his meal.
A smile crawls his face, the face of Death
“Be not gentle, have no mercy,”
whisper the Furies,
the sisters of Circe.

Blade of souls with a long crescent,
A strong grip for anger to vent,
“I am here to devoid you
of all that meant,
I am Thanatos,
the face of dread.”

Sharp short breaths of varying lengths,
Shards of glass on wrists of Death.
Smirking at the resting soul, he draws the bloodthirsty dagger,
For it’s not different,
to sleep or to die.
It doesn’t matter whether you protest or cry.
“Sleeping in the shade, your minds in haze,
Twin of mine you willfully embrace,
What am I, if not a long slumber?
My love I am the angel, the Angel of sombre.”

“For you must leave,
from whence you came,
from shade to shade you return,
I will find you, you will be caught,
Whether you’re buried, whether you burn.”

“Oh, the ignorant soul,
kneeling and praying on black shores of Styx,
It’s time you be oblivious to the worldly charms,
Welcome to the place you be devoid of all plans.
Let go of your memories, forget your pain,
don’t let my mumblings drive you insane,
Swaying in the water like swans,
go limp in the waters of Lethe,
With a splash of cold fire and gentle rocking,
Let me take you to the three-headed dog awaiting.”

Feathers in the sky

a poem by Raj Ganesh Manoharan

I dream about the dreams that never come true
Isolated thoughts queue up inside
The moment, I close my eyes
Dark it turns, like a light at the end of a tunnel
Opens the gate to enter my dreamland

I wander on the empty streets
I float along the clouds
I sleep on the moon
I walk through the woods

Nightmares and Fairytales
Where, I am the hero, Dreams are you
Dreams are what you want to be
Dreams are those little things you come across
Dreams are the things you leave un-accomplished
Dreams have meaning, Dreams are me

Questing on myself! The day I stop dreaming
My dreams will be fulfilled
I still dream about that day
The feathers on my arms, up above the clouds
Accomplishments of countless desires

This is what I am made of
This is for what I am born for
To live my Dreams!
To live my Dreams!

Fishes can’t fly

a poem by Raj Ganesh Manoharan

We all try to live a life so perfect
That we don’t want others to complain about.
We all started to have an opinion on what this society around will think,
If I think or act like.

We aren’t doing things we really want to.
We take care of the fact that we should not be filled with any mistakes
That nobody will question it or talk about it.
We invest a lot of time thinking on what the world outside will react to our actions.
We carry a pinch of embarrassment within us
Comparing ourselves with the world outside.

An urge to be perfect to show them who we really are!
We made rules for ourselves.
We created God’s for ourselves.
We drew a line in front making ourselves to not cross it.

We set limitations for ourselves and started judging based on them.
Why do we do that?
Everyone are different.

Why do we try to make them follow us?
Why do we want them to be like us?
Why do we push our opinions on a stronger side making them feel weak?
Why do we do that?

This Life is my gift.
We have to stand up bit higher from this deluded crowd to see what things really are.
We aren’t born here to follow some set of man-made rules and die!
Live like the way you want.
You be a sinister in their eyes!

You aren’t perfect to them?
You aren’t what they expect?
You earn their hate?
Remember, you will still breathe the same air as they do.

If everyone’s paper is white and pure
That doesn’t make any difference to your life trying to keep yours white and pure.
Make some black dots, Make some memories.
The day your soul leaves you
Don’t regret seeing that blank pure white paper that unfolds throughout your life.
Be that black dot that you are.
You aren’t born to be the same.

The time we spend on knowing what others are and what they think
Spend it on you.
Close your eyes and listen to the voice that speaks to you.
The time we invest on people is just a day-dream for a lazy mind.

Stand up on the stool in front and see the world different.
No matter how this world of delusions and chaos put you in.
No matter how bad you are judged for.
No matter the words that are raised against you.
No matter the portrayal they do on you.

Remember,
You are still breathing the same air as they do…

Untitled Minimalists

a poem by Rita Malhotra Dr

I give freedom to words
To choose their task
But each time
They build
A castle of love

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fading footsteps
Emotions wilt like tainted petals
Holding memories in my hand
I watch dazed
My shadow leaving me

Children of a lesser God

a poem by Zeenat Hakimjee

Walking about in torn and tattered clothes,
Looking messy with a running nose.
Crippled, unable to walk properly,
The arrogant man, looks at him disdainfully.
The other day, the car almost ran her down,
As she leaped forward, begging for an alm,
Hand outstretchetched, unable to see,
In the sun, wearing dark glasses,
Makes him look shady.
For a cheap rate, they are bought,
Are they, Children of a Lesser God?

Beside the Lake

a poem by Deepa Dash

Walking across the frozen lake,
In the mid of night,
I had a couple at my sight,
Enjoying every fall of snow.

They meant to have immense pleasure,
In chanting and romping with the snow.
It was our memories I could treasure,
As we promised to meet but I was alone.

I had my eyes hunting for you,
And my heart sobbing without you,
Many times looking at the ring in my finger,
Dreadfully I missed you!

A sound, tapping of boots,
I was nervous as it approached me.
I felt unsafe and thought to turn,
But soon I had my eyes smother.

I felt the warmth of the hand,
The feelings I had had before,
Surely it was you my love,
Having the same sweetest band.

I was very happy and my fright disappeared,
It was like darkness vanished and light again appeared.
Me lost in the world of pleasure as you hugged me tight,
Our eyes became one and I saw myself in your sight.
Holding hand in hand, we moved beside the lake,
I swear, it was purest and rest all are fake!

The unseen Divine

a poem by Anurag Barman

Doubt about his existence by some,
While worshipped by many;
In the form of names and shapes,
Yet nothing conceivable.

Where man is the fate of himself,
But his existence lays upon him,
The Supreme Phenomenal;
The Unseen Divine.