Poems on "Life"

Less life, more experiences

a poem by Satish Bhande

Let’s talk some real stuff
Nah its just non sense but its obvious
That I’ve upgraded from a person to an artist
And I’m rising, fighting, I don’t know why the hell I’m still writing
I haven’t gotten in a flight
But I still think that I’ll just keep on flying
Like most other’s I’m just trying
I’m lying
I have happy face but on the inside I am crying
How can I escape my own mind

You teach me how to live
You better look at your own life
Times aren’t right but I notice its my time
Rather than mumbling words I try to say truth through these lines
Envision it in your own mind
Now see your loved ones die
Now see the street life
Watch the street light
Break the signal and go ahead
Now bang your head in an ambulance
Someone’s just gonna die
Why would I say lies
You just saw death in front of your own eyes
There’s no light in this cold night
I don’t have money I don’t smoke weed
I don’t get high
Stay low and stay nice
I ain’t rich yet, so I prefer getting beating on a fair price
Nobody is trying to kill me
Listen up and just feel me
Feel free to slap me and wake up next morning in hell
I’m stuck between a cliff and a well
So I jump of the cliff
And spread out my wings

Too careless!

a poem by Ananya Garg

A white T-shirt trying to shape itself to fit my torso
A black lower loose enough to allow my legs to breathe in the air
Sport shoes spattered in mud because I jumped in that favourite park of mine while it was raining
My hair wild open and too tangled to be tied up in a neat pony

You see I’m too careless to care about how I look
And I step out of my house
I walk and walk and walk
All those pairs of eyes staring at me as if trying to tell me how lunatic they felt I am

A smirk escapes my lips and I keep walking
For my headphones played no better old fashioned song than ‘better not mess with me’ at that moment
I have nowhere to go
No person is waiting for me
Neither is my presence being missed anywhere, except for, inside me

Here is a pond at the side where water is standing still
As if it’s been too long since it’s waiting for someone
So I go near it
Looking into it as if it would actually answer all my questions

Water reflected the clear and bold scar on my forehead which reminded of the accident
Accident after which my brother cried for continuously more than an hour
For he thought he would be held liable for because he pushed me
While playing chor police in the old house

Also it reminded me of my mother’s warm hug trying to console me
By making me believe that I was ‘her strongest girl’
And I remember how my dad looked away because his too soft heart
Couldn’t bear the sight of blood stained band aid.

The scar played a story of love that was never felt again after that moment
Water is still reflecting my image so honestly
I smile at myself
And I move on

Because that is what I have learnt
Not to stay at a place
Not to hold on to anything
And just move on

I walk into an open ground
And instead of sitting on the perfectly carved benches
I decide to lie on the uneven ground
And look up to imperfectly painted canvas of tints and shades of blues and whites

I see the birds working for their much free life
And again I remember applying for the jobs that were never made for me
Letting my passion go for the hunger of pennies that were never earned
Let me breathe

I want to let it go
My eyes again embrace that canvas
And now I have decided to paint it
But with my colour, red.

Kindled Night

a poem by Satish Verma

Put off the lantern.
I am waiting for the moon’s
primal face. The lesser flamingoes
were going to shed the pink color.

Nude as a python, the kiss
of pomegranates, kills by asphyxiation.
I suffer in the hands of protests.
The black ice now enters the eye of a needle.

A barefoot noun feeds the junta.
The butter babies will serve the poetry
of poor on the mats of principles.
I will remain unslept on straw.

A newspaper eats the story this side.
After the bloodbath surgeons weep.
An armless lover hugs a priest
for not calling the gods.


a poem by Satish Verma

A silence speaks up at ungreen
age for an unknown, finding
dark matter in hiddenness
of sleazy light.

A dove in the valley of tulips
stops a flight for a wayfarer.

What was that persists,
in envioronment and bunkers?

Queen bee will decide for a spliced
dawn of honeycomb in a bloodless coup.

The stings were the torchbearers.

A smile comes out with a walker. The
vitals were dysfunctioning.
The end does not need any comma.


a poem by Satish Verma

Standing in a milk line you were
talking of depravity, of blood lines
and the breast enhancement.

A teenage fringe bomber wants
to sew the civil society and explodes
himself before the empty bakery.

A young gal throws her son
from the ninth floor and then jumps
to get the justice from indifferent god.

Can we talk and wash away our
guilt? Crossing the river was
not enough, we need drinking water.

Bits of human flesh are plastered
on the walls. The death wears a
face of daddy to kill the times.


a poem by Satish Verma

Was busy
Carving out the white clouds
Like stanzas, unflawed.
Now I begin to fall apart.

No meaning was left in a drink.
You could see only your image
Drowning in a scented charity.
At last I am watching myself.

Black paper. The ink was white.
Speechless. No body language.
Only you will discover the space
Between the unspoken words.

Only buttons know the hollowness
Of a floating gun. Meeting you in
An empty glass. Future will always
Talk of a setting sun.

A Visit to Graveyard

a poem by Mirza Sharafat Hussain Beigh

On Thursday evening
I pray near a Grave in Kashmir
Incense sticks
And candles
Lit in bundles
Aroma makes me feel
As I kneel

This is land of my forefathers
Where they rest
I too look for a place nearest
I belong to these graves
Here my soul craves
To sleep till eternity
In the Eden of divinity
What else Should I ask
That has more dignity


a poem by Shimna Prasad

I don’t know how to define the word journey
It’s simple for someone
It’s so complicated for somebody
It’s thrilling for a few
It’s an end for others

But what really matters in a journey
Whether the starting point or the destination
What if the journey finds you a different destination
Whether to turn back or to continue or to end up?

Choice is yours to define that journey
Turning back will lead you back to where you started
Making no difference and no definition
Continue will welcome you with a new starting point

With handful of surprises and hopes to your new destination
Ending up will lead you nowhere else than to the darkness
Choice is yours to redefine your journey
It never starts… and it never ends…

The Stream of life

a poem by Vidya Vijay

Life is a like a sturdy stream,
And with it flows our wavy dreams.
The Stream will rumble,
And the stream may grumble.
But we should never, dare to tumble.

The flowing stream, may tend to slow,
That’s when our mighty wind should blow.
Sailing fast or sailing slow,
We must never forget to row.

By now we’ve crossed all the bends.
Followed trends, and lost our friends.
But all of this we must amend,
As our flowing stream, it has an end.


a poem by Anurag Barman

Beneath the left surface of the soul
Exist a place from where life begins

Making ups and downs in the ECG
Depicting life not to be ideal

Lost into the outside world
Forgetting to listen to it

Reminding only in times of
Fear and loneliness

But be it any situation or time
Still keeps on making waves

Because a beeline puts the soul
To an end

Living for that day

a poem by Anurag Barman

Living for that day
When the world will be mine,
Not like today,
Being like a drudge.

Living for that day
When I will be free
From all pain and tensity
Which I embrace today.

Living for that day
When people will listen to me
Instead of hearing them
Recognising my worth.

Although it seems futile
And tends to put an end,
Still kept awake by wit
Just to live for that day.

Cruel to Life

a poem by Amshudharsai K

Felt jealous when other smiles hit me
Not only as guardian but also from off spring
Darkness was not my unhappy
But it is my lonely being

My sis and bro are my caffeine
They chat, chill and make love
Passed every dark in hope of light
But left with only watery eyes

Met with my delights
Had gone through a play
Which turned me to be humble
Known the sense of pride in divine nature

Was like sarrogacy
Borrowed happiness from other cuteness

The Virtual World

a poem by Anurag Barman

Lost into yourself;
Exist another parallel world
Where only you exist
Leaving the real world behind.

A world without boundaries
And happenings to your instincts;
From past to future
Changes in tune with your will.

A place almost like a mirror
But everything is virtual
Where you can take the best form
And wishing it to be real.

Life is Zero

a poem by Anurag Barman

Down to this enigmatic world
Where time sprints between birth and death,
Thou and me being living dusts.

Downtrodden by worries and fears
Yet kept alive by faith and hopes
Signalling to move on
Albeit fate can twist any moment

Where theories and ideologies shape everyday
But limitations still apply
Leaving everything undefined

Alas, truth unveils that
there isn’t any formula or equation
Unfolding life to be a zero

On the journey

a poem by Aniesh V

Life is a vehicle and time it’s wheel
Travellers we are, keep moving with zeal

Ocean of sorrow sometimes it hold
Garden of happiness also for the bold

Every dream seems to be true
Follow your heart, where it blew

With triumph you will be crowned
Spread the love, spread the light all around

As they say it’s a gift of god
With our actions, let’s make it laud

Life is a vehicle and time it’s wheel
Travellers we are, keep moving with zeal