"Nothing More, Nothing Less" Just as I remember it. - By Trisha

Written By: Trisha

Category: Poetry

Competition: Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Trisha presents an evocative collection titled "Nothing More, Nothing Less" Just as I remember it., a compilation of poignant poetry that invites readers to explore the intricate themes of nature, identity, and humanity. This submission is part of the esteemed Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, showcasing the raw and reflective works of emerging writers. Through her words, Trisha delves into the human condition and the natural world, offering a profound commentary on existence and introspection.

About the Work

Trisha's poetry is a tapestry of vivid imagery and evocative themes. Her work traverses the realms of nature, introspection, and the human experience, capturing both the beauty and melancholy of life. The poems carry a reflective and contemplative mood, inviting readers to ponder the harmony and discord between humanity and the natural world. With a keen eye for detail, Trisha crafts verses that resonate with universal truths and personal revelations, leaving a lasting impression.

"Nothing More, Nothing Less" Just as I remember it.

Original Submission by Trisha

NOTHING MORE, NOTHING LESS

Just as I remember it…

________________

A SPHERE

A sphere,

cloaked in moss and green,

whose rivers bore no titles,

whose forests knew no claim.

Everything grown,

Everybody fed;

the living thrived,

the fallen spread.

No trees declared

another small;

the forest knew

it held them all.

The dawn belonged

to every wing,

and none was crowned

the favoured king.

No root reached down

to claim the rain;

the Earth gave freely,

again and again.

Then thunder spoke.

The roots that once begged none

reached deeper still,

searching for somewhere

to run.

The rivers,

once nameless,

were measured and mapped.

The forest,

once untamed,

were bartered and trapped.

The mountains

were weighed

by the riches below.

The skies

grew heavy

with ashes that rose.

The rhino’s trail

was lost to dust;

its silence buried

beneath our lust.

The songs of birds

grew few and far,

extinction written

like a gathering scar.

Yet stranger still-

the wild learned

not to fear the wolf,

but wolves

who borrowed

human skin.

They hunted

not from hunger,

but for greed.

They mistook

a blossom

for a prize,

a voice

for silence,

a life

for something

they could own.

And while the forests

lost their leaves,

countless blossoms

were taught to grieve.

The sphere watched on.

It saw the beasts

disappear from sight,

and the wolves

walk freely

through the night.

It saw the rivers

given names,

the forests claimed,

the flowers tamed.

Yet still it turns,

through grief and dawn,

bearing the scars

we’ve written upon.

Not every wound

is carved in stone,

yet every life

was never ours to own.

Perhaps the Earth

was never small-

only our hearts.

A sphere.

________________

TRACE

The monsters under my bed,

Living in the dark cold; cold corners,

Deep inside,

Crawl out to pay me a visit.

They think that I’m naïve,

That I’m stupid,

and wouldn’t notice them walking around at

night.

But I do,

I always do.

In the daylight,

they linger-

just enough to go unnoticed by the others.

But I always see them.

Just a glance,

But it’s there-always is.

They want something,

maybe a soul.

But what they don’t know is

the soul they crave

is just a shadow bearing my name.

________________

APPARITION

I could hear the evil rise,

Its frantic, laboured breath,

haunting me deep inside.

I turned to face the other side

and closed my eyes shut

telling myself it would eventually subside

as I lay there quietly,

trying not to think about what was beside.

The ringing in my ears

slowly went away

as I dared to take a peek at the doorway.

As expected,

there was nothing there.

I slowly began to move again-

The last thing left to move, my eyes.

That was when I saw it.

The creeping shadow,

Standing there all along, staring at me-

all quiet.

Black hair spilling downward

from something that didn’t have a body.

________________

WHERE DARKNESS FEELS LIKE HOME

The dark, cold night never scared me,

because the one who owns it is all mine.

The one who makes me whine,

The one who makes me rhyme.

He is the keeper of darkness-

Yet darkness never frightened me.

The one who makes others tremble

never once gave me a reason to fear him.

He may believe he’s the devil himself.

but to me, he’s the knight

who carved a ray of light

through my endless night.

I was never afraid of the dark,

because the one who owns it

owns me too-

He’s the one who owns my mind,

my body,

and my soul.

He is the only one

who has ever made me feel whole.

Love feels like an understatement;

he is the beat my heart obeys.

And even if he never says it out loud,

I know-

I am his too.

He is the owner of the darkness.

But darkness never scared me,

because the one who owns it

is all mine.

________________

RITUAL OF RETURNING

Almost touch, never much

Two opposite sides of the same die-

Too close, beneath closed eyes

So close, yet split by tides

My eyes yearning to confess what my lips

deny

My heart begs me to stay a moment longer,

I can’t comply.

Same hour, different time

Still I stand, waiting for someone who was

never mine.

I begin to leave, swearing I’ll never come

Like ritual, I return again

Still there no sign of you,

I leave feeling ever so numb.

Fixed moment, empty shore

Time moved in intervals, no trace of him anymore

I tell my heart, “Alas, the hour asks me to let him go”

I trail,

My footsteps heavy,

As I walk last time towards the shore.

Something heavy lingers in the air,

My body shakes as I reach there-

Only his ribbon,

Name engraved,

Left wrapped around a stone.

________________

ALMOST ENOUGH

I am always the pause

Never the sentence.

The name the lingers

On someone’s tongue

Right before they choose another.

I have been held

With half-decided hands,

Looked at

Like something almost worth keeping.

They say love arrives loudly-

A certainty,

A door flung open.

But with me,

It hesitates.

Stands at the threshold,

Studies the room,

And leaves without touching anything.

I have learned

The language of almost-

Almost chosen,

Almost stayed,

Almost loved.

It lives in the way

People soften around me

But never settle.

In the way I am remembered

Fondly,

But never returned to.

Somewhere, they say,

There is someone meant for everyone.

But I have stood

In too many almost

To believe in absolutes.

Still-

There are nights

I catch myself wondering

What it would feel like

To be chosen

Without hesitation,

Without comparison,

Without the quiet question

Of whether

I am enough-

Or just close.

________________

CYCLE OF BECOMING

I was grown, nurtured,

in the quiet sweetness of you.

A seed hidden in softness,

never knowing the sky was blue.

You ripened just to lose me,

Your body learning to part,

And I fell- unready, unnamed,

With the echo of you in my heart.

I wandered into the world then,

Weathered by hands not my own,

Tasted,

Tested,

Consumed,

In ways I had never been shown.

They took all the sweetness from me,

Left only what they refused,

And I lay there- discarded,

Emptied,

Altered,

Used.

But even in ruin, I waited,

In silence,

in dirt,

in despair,

Until time and an unseen kindness

began rebuilding me there.

And slowly, I broke into living,

roots clawing into past,

becoming the thing I came from,

A beginning disguised as my last.

For I was never just eaten,

nor ended when I was thrown-

I was always a cycle of becoming,

A seed that was meant to be grown.

________________

THE SAME OLD ROADS

There was a time,

I thought you’d be beside me forever.

But now all I have,

are the memories we stitched together.

Do you still remember

How inseparable we used to be?

Years of our lives folded into laughter,

shared secrets,

and long drives that felt endless and free.

Time has a quiet way of moving on

It doesn’t ask,

It just goes.

And now,

You’re no longer there

For our usual rides down familiar roads.

Sometimes I want to text you

Just to ask about your day,

Like I used to-

When I knew everything about you,

But knowing things aren’t

How they used to be,

I let it be.

And yet,

Even after all this time,

I still wish

We could steal one small moment-

Yours and mine.

Driving down those same old roads,

You on the wheel

And me right by your side.

________________

PETTY FACADES

Pretty face, Petty facades

Steady pace, not easy to brace

Crawling from deep within,

With sharpened truth beneath the skin.

The strides laboured,

Yet every step savoured.

No witness to what I’ve seen,

I stand composed,

sharp,

and serene.

Now all at once, their pretty thins,

The world sees through their petty grins.

I bled in silence,

Stitched in time.

Now daylight names their hidden crimes.

In time, I rose from the ashes,

At last, I mended all my gashes

________________

________________

About the Competition

The Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a celebration of literary talent, bringing together a diverse array of voices and creative expressions. This competition serves as a platform for writers to share their unique perspectives and storytelling prowess with a wider audience. Participants engage in a vibrant community of fellow creatives, exploring themes that span across genres and styles.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Trisha for her thoughtful contribution to the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 with her collection "Nothing More, Nothing Less" Just as I remember it.. Her evocative verses enrich the tapestry of voices and narratives celebrated in this competition. We look forward to witnessing her continued journey and creative expression.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.