Poetry

By GR Madhukar I search for you in the morning light, in whispers soft, in stars at night, your voice sing, in the quite air, a melody that is, beyond compare. You fed us not just bread and spice, with love and warmth, a world so nice, each meal and every bite we took, that can come only, from my mother’s book A teacher’s soul, so wise and true, you shaped our minds and our dreams you drew, when you sang, the heavens heard, a voice like a river, free as a bird. In every song

By Pragya Sadhana Neog Under the blue, ocean sky, I saw a little birdie passing by. I smiled, maybe took a snap, Knowing that such a pretty bird, would notice me not, in a world full of beautiful mishaps. But the next morning, Here it was, Beautiful, shy, and a little bold Bringing me poems, I did not know I deserved to hold. And when I kissed the birdie goodbye, It told me its deepest secret, That it did not know itself beautiful, But knew of me to be the prettiest of them a

By Pragya Sadhana Neog Poetic it is, When one craves failure, For it is rare and unique To be amongst the drowning sailors. When one goes on from saying, "I don't want to live like this..." To, praying to the dearest Lord, "I don't want to live, let it all finish." Ugliness becomes beauty When one looks only through the eye. Destruction consumes them swiftly, A truth, even the blind can't deny. Honesty, happiness, heaven, These are dreams mortals crave. When the thirsty throa

By Pragya Sadhana Neog I had loved you Before time claimed us wrong, Breathed my ash onto your altar, My longing only growing strong. I had loved you Before the moon knew to shine, Prayed myself into devotion, Declared your soul divine. I had loved you Before the sea knew to rise, Drowning humanity into greed, Staring at Gods with darkened eyes. I have loved you Like thorns birthed along roses, My heart, for you, ripped open Now, and forever, Even after my vision closes. By P

By Pragya Sadhana Neog The new generation, they say, are spoiled rotten. Funny, for we are the plants of the seed they had sown, Seeds of competition, comparison and corporate culture, Now they blame us for being perfectionists, even about colour. Their propagation coming to frution, And they dislike it now, so they try to change it through shame. Every YouTube video thumbnail, every reel says so, "Progress, not perfection". But don't we see those kicked out? Those who priori

By Pragya Sadhana Neog What have I become, but a stranger to myself? A wanderer through the map I drew, Lost between the pages of my own biography, And a whisperer without echo... Poetry remains my oxygen, But exhales do not feel relaxing anymore, Perhaps I fear love now, The love I craved, prayed for, Perhaps the prayer has become air now... Money has started to matter, More than dreams ever did. Fear has started to drag me down, As I silently watch, letting it. Am I a failu

By Dr.B.Senthil Visagan The debate: Behind the curtains, Debates tuned About the tune Of the Strings and the pipes And the rhythmic beat of meat— With sycophancy Dancing to the tune. Who is better? Violins, or Trumpets; Drums or Piano!— Each so unique that They sing many a melody To remove every malady Like the Strings playing At my heart strings; The Nadashwaram Making the air dance As I breathe in; The 88 soldiers in file Be it black or white Keying in to even make  The alp

By Dr.B.Senthil Visagan Stanza 1: பொருள் வளம் கொண்டு தீனி சமர்ப்பிப்பவர்களின் மத்தியில் நான். பசிக்கு திருடுபவர்களுக்கும் திரட்டே பசியாய் கொண்டு இருப்பவர்க்கும் வேற்றுமை பல. Stanza 2: பொருள் வளம் கொண்டு, பொருள் வளம் அற்றவராய் வாழும் ஏழைகள்; நூறு கோடி இருந்தாலும், பசிக்கு குணங்களை அகற்றி, இலைகளை ஓடி பிடிப்பார்கள். Stanza 3: இதைக் காணும் நான், பொருள் வளம் இன்றி, வெளிச்சத்தில் நின்றுகொண்டே பசி வெள்ளத்தில் மூழ்குகிறேன்; என் உடல் இவ்வெளிச்சத்தினால் ஏற்படும் தாகத்தை போக்க வேர்வை சி

By Dr.B.Senthil Visagan Stanza 1:Past He returned wounded In battle be it life or war; He returned scarred— His countenance being the count on the nonce For the event. Defaced with a void Where eye need be— A void filled with Memories of the battle; Travelled homewards In hope to leave This allegory of the past To take refuge in the future. Stanza 2: Present Feeling easier To carry the trunks To his door Carrying a heavy heart That heaves A sigh of relief Upon the bark of a c

By Dr.B.Senthil Visagan Rescued me being a rescue— A stray who never let me astray! A runt with an eye for apple once, Yet an apple of my eye Like I was to you. They call you voiceless Yet,you are the only one To listen to my voice That is heard less. Being dichromatic, Unable to perceive red Despite the harm in their intent; Seeing all blue To wear off the blues In everyone; And yet, They call you a dog— But then, you are my God. One eyed as you are, A hole in the other, Giv

By Dr.B.Senthil Visagan How is Humanity divided But Mankind multiplied— Asked thee at three years at three at night. Why do you want to be enlightened Only at night,I wonder? This Riddle you fiddle To me in the middle of your widdle, Oh My Biddle! These queries you point, All without smoking a joint? Impressive! Me the uncle; you the niece A joint family that we are. Now,Let us flip a coin To see if we should Continue to seek light Or get you to sleep for the night The probab

By Dr.B.Senthil Visagan Stanza 1: Treading on my reflection of the day On the puddles, Splashing it off Carrying the murkiness on my feet Overdrawn by the murky skies With no shadow by my side. I continue my stride In a dragging gait; All for a wait, To see my light— My one true love. She is the dream that makes me sleep She was the weaver of the Cotton That wound up the wounds that had wound me up. A driving fuel to walk The walk of life in flames. Stanza 2: She acts as a pe

“A quiet voyage through waves and will.”

By Mahek Gandhi 10th class,a special class, as truly said, New friends and memories we made. From Navaratri’s colourful nights, To Kumbhalgarh’s beautiful sights. The extra classes we couldn't resist, And the PE periods we would never want to miss. From Maths sums on Alpha and Beta, To circle's sums on Theta. Numericals on mirrors and lens, We would surely create a mess. Biology class freshened us up , And Gujarati class was definitely a thumbs up. Playing games like Antaksha

By Annya Baral I stand at the turning of a page Half child, half coming of age Behind me, a world, full of childhood games Ahead a life of goals and names Once the loudest worry was a broken toy Now it’s chapters, submissions and deadlines Timetables were once for show Now they take my leisure hours away, you know? Corridors, where we would run every day Now whisper ‘these years are slipping away’ Friends still laugh in the same way, yet their voices are grown Tinged with a w

By Sumedha Gupta  trauma screams for an escape A quiet one Which no one can hear Because no one CAN hear No one can EVER come to know A rebellious one Who's heat only she can feel Churning through her stomach Her tired chest A wrong one Because nothing has ever went right in her life inspite of trying to nearly death Yes She wanted to kill herself once She didn't  I told you she was brave She releases her trauma in silenced screams In distorted art In poems like these In a sm

By Sumedha Gupta Oh, my heart! I love you  with all that I am. The sorrows  you carry, the horrific truths  you bury– lay within your depths, struggling to rise , yet somehow, you strangle  them and wish for them to sink  again. But instead they surface . Whenever they please, whenever you want them least , defeating  you, over and over. Each day, hope  dies  a little more. Are you their killer , or are they yours? Who'd win this war? Will you overcome them, before they overc

By Sumedha Gupta I took a break And the hardest thing I had to do was– To just be .  Without a plan. Without a time table The to do list The clock running in my head Things to be done, and quickly Or the time will run out I'll be left behind My career on the thin ice  of a constantly melting lake of time Why? Why the rush? Pause Pause in this very moment Feel the tension in your chest Feel the emotion you've been avoiding Feel the ache and despair and anger Let the negative s

By Sumedha Gupta डूब जाऊँ    समुद्र में   उसके जो मुझे डुबाना चाहता है   देखूँ उन गहराइयों को   जो वो मुझे दिखाना चाहता है   तैरूँ ग़म के दरिया में   पी जाऊँ कुछ पानी उसका   कब तक बचूँगी उन लहरों से   ये दिल अब डूब जाना चाहता है   क्या रखा है इस दुनिया  में   हो जाता है जो हो जाना होता है   हम तो प्यादे हैं उसके शतरंज के   पहुँच ही जाते हैं वहाँ   जहाँ वो पहुँचाना चाहता है   ** बह जाऊँ    हवाओं में   उसकी जो मुझे बहाना चाहता है   दुनिया का हर कोना देखूँ   नदियाँ देखूँ   ज़मान

By Sumedha Gupta Why the rush for perfection?   Do you even know what's true? Are you so naïve,   That you don't see—   It's a mirage. Are you supposed to understand it all today ? Stripped of all perceived  truth— today ?   Of all the prejudices  stitched   Onto your mind since childhood,   Stripped of everything taught by imperfect people—   Stripped of anger,   Of insecurities,   Of delusions,   Of notions,   Connotations,   Of every color painted on your soul:   Pinks and