Poetry

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu You wake up — a worry You are — in a hurry Breathe in...to proceed; You have dreams ...to succeed. You spend nights discussing matters, With your pen bleeding onto pages; You are free to fly, Having torn apart the cages. You work to be known And be remembered through ages, Not given nor granted— You set your own stages. You don't hesitate before deciding You aren't a slave where you are residing, Not coerced by rules you are abiding You are a free

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu The swirls of wind Pass by the window glass, As I sit on the 4th floor, And stare at the grass. I often long to go down, And to feel, under the boots, the crunching maples It might be the warm autumn day outside, But, I am caged inside marble chapels. I hear a cry or two of joy — Coming from the garden down. Oh! But I am chained by the coldness, Of the falsely lively town. I was choosing these chains, Trying to stay connected inside But now i hope

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu I know it was morning But I was a midnight. I know she was wondering,  But I had lost my sight. I know they were grey, But you were blue And I fell in love, With the different hue. I know they were thorns, But you were the golden thread; That shone at midnight — Deep inside my head. They might declare That you are now dead, And I know these are lavenders; But I am a rose — crimson red. By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu I picked a book, it unbounded to pages. As I pour out vaguely justified rages Frustrated, forgotten, and afraid as I lay, I wait to be rotten day by day. I picked a book it asked to be laid down 'never saw such a person in the town'. Disgraced and unknown as I hide, I try to imagine false yet glorious days of pride. I picked a book it cried and washed the ink 'you won't get what my creator says, I think' Words pinched my heart and took fistful of s

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu I met an innocent man today He was robbed of love and delight  Stranded from joy and th And the home he had all right Who’ll come to read and recite What his destiny holds for him ahead? Who’ll care to bring him back, From the city of bygone dead? I met an innocent man today His loved ones will not mourn They'll be busy taking thumbprints  When he will lay at peace yet painfully torn He knows, yet he stares, at the door And longs for someone to kno

By Ashu Bansal By Ashu Bansal

By Ashu Bansal By Ashu Bansal

By Ashu Bansal By Ashu Bansal

By Ashu Bansal By Ashu Bansal

By Ashu Bansal By Ashu Bansal

By Ashu Bansal By Ashu Bansal

By Anusha Gupta By Anusha Gupta

By Anusha Gupta By Anusha Gupta

By Anusha Gupta By Anusha Gupta

By Anusha Gupta By Anusha Gupta

By Anusha Gupta By Anusha Gupta

By Arshiya It’s beautiful somehow, To share and know, That there’s someone, Who can go on, Sail and fly and dig the entrails. With quirks and giggles, Of all the dark and grey, Of all the light and gay, With the Joy of existence and  The pain of existence. It’s beautiful somehow, To share and know, The lavish spread of experiences, Do long for expressions, Where the realm of physical reality, Ruled by tangibilty, Has surrendered to transcendentality! By Arshiya

By Arshiya Vivacious yet weird, Melancholic yet beautiful, Wise yet foolish, Compassionate yet pitiable, Distressed yet composed, Impulsive yet thoughtful, Gentle with quiet strength, Should I wonder or pity, At a heart which contains  the whole world yet lonely! Amalgamation of yin yang? By Arshiya

By Arshiya In the blankness of the sky, In the roar of the oceanic waves, In the rustling of leaves on a tree, In the bright red petals of a flower, In the poems I read, In the novels I submerge, In the news of a daily, In the silence of my nights, In the chaos of the crowds, In the smile of an infant, In the caress of my mother, In the wisdom of my father, In the warmth of a friendship, In the whiskers on a kitten, In the deep silence of a forest, In the bright sunshine, In

By Arshiya Earth’s absorbing of the vast sky’s  Pouring, Cascading with brutality of facts, Admiring the Musings Of clouds, Filled with sanctimonious droplets, Would the dormant half asleep seeds of life germinate  And the self loathing parched soil  Outburst  With vibrant hues Or still be blue? Blue like the vast sky? By Arshiya