Poetry

By Sanmitha Sree V தொலை தூரம் செல்ல கண்ணே, வழி ஒன்று சொல். வீசும் காற்றில் உன் வாசமில்லா தூரம். சுட்டெரிக்கும் தீயில் உன் ஸ்பரிசம் உணரா தூரம். ஓடும் நதியோசையில் உன் குறல் கேகா தூரம். கால் படும் மண்ணில் உன் கால் தடம் தெரியா தூரம். வானத்து மேகத்தில் உன் முகம் காணா தூரம். கடல்கள் ஏழு மலைகள் ஏழு என கடந்தாலும், மனதின் உன் நினைவுகள் தொலையும் தூரம் உள்ளதா சொல்? வழி யாதென சொல்? By Sanmitha Sree V

By Sanmitha Sree V How could I not? How could I not fall in love? When doing so, Felt like my first breath? How can I stop? Now that I know, Each breath of you  Is making me an addict. I yearn for more I seek for more Fear of losing restraint, Now seeps my brain. Kill me when you leave For my soul would abandon me For your company What will I be then, If not just sinew and bone. By Sanmitha Sree V

By Sanmitha Sree V You come by and go, Yet never truly stay. Keeping it alive with a caress, But never an embrace. How can I let go When you're always back In a tranquil wave? Well, why do I even bother? What's a shore to do When it’s the sea, she awaits? By Sanmitha Sree V

By Sanmitha Sree V She's right there, swaying at the edge, thinking of the leap. Just a little nudge, just a step forward is all she thinks— jumping off that cliff, streaming down the walls. Would she ever feel so free and unbound? Oh, they'd call her weak for even straying to the edge. How could she even wonder about falling down? Yet only a few truly know The beauty of letting her leap and go beyond that eyelid. Only some let a tear slip and cry. By Sanmitha Sree V

By Sanmitha Sree V How does one start anew, When old scars Still strain each step? New beginnings.  How does a chapter start, When the last one  Left at a cliffhanger? New beginnings.  How does a seed bloom, Over a withering plant? Something forsaken Yet still present. New beginnings.  Not so truly new  When at each moment, Ghosts of the past Haunt my judgement  For even a clean state Is not free of the indents, The chalk once left. By Sanmitha Sree V

By Sanmitha Sree V Broken people  call themselves poets As if bleeding on paper Makes it all better Broken people Call themselves poets Masquerading secrets confessions  Within fancy words  Broken people  Call themselves poets Hollering ballads of love For everyone to read Except the muse Broken people  Call themselves poets  Pouring out their soul For all that they see Well What can a broken vase hold? Giving it all out 'Cause that's all we can By Sanmitha Sree V

By Sanmitha Sree V The warmth of a summer night, Gazing carefree, Counting stars In the endless sky. I fantasise about warmth— The warmth of a mother’s hug. Where her hand doesn't tremble Under the burdens I've failed to carry. I fantasise about warmth— The warmth of a father’s proud smile. As I lighten his troubles, So he can finally live Just for himself. I fantasise about warmth— The warmth of a lover’s touch, Someone who doesn't fear to love Someone who would fight for me

By Sanmitha Sree V A child whom you saw And blindly called A prodigy. Oh, did you ever think I would be lucky To even know the meaning? Mother, this is me— A girl whom you thought Would break all odds, Achieve all the wonders You never got to. How do I tell you, I’m not even half Of what you were then? Mother, this is me— Just another pebble In a sea of rocks. Just a melting candle To your moon-like beauty. All the good you see in me Is simply the love You've poured into me.

By Sanmitha Sree V I sin in pride Pride in ever knowing A love like you, Unrequited maybe, But true to my soul. I sin in greed Greedy for all these little moments I can create with you, Innocent in your eyes But treasured in my heart. I sin in lust Lust for your attention, Putting myself out there So you'd take a look once, Even if for a few seconds. I sin in envy Envious of all Who get to be with you Just a little more than I do, But I'd never let you know. I sin in gluttony

By Sanmitha Sree V Oh, she glows blue Like her chilling waves  Calls to me like a Siren Whispering sweet nothings In the back of my head Over the veil of the dead Each day  I'm a bit closer Each day I break a bit further Each day I yearn a bit farther Until the day I'm just already there Oh, she asks for nothing No valour, no virtue, no great honour Nothing to deem me unworthy She would take me just as I am Sharp edges and all Even if I prick her skin All for a coin and anoth

By Shreya Madambath Dear girl, If you're listening, then listen to your heart. It speaks with a rhythm that matches your vigour. If you're speaking, then speak with your mind. Your words must match the simmering embers of your being. Do not fret, do not stop. Do not let your failures drag you back. You must not listen to them, but understand them. Understand that your duty lies in your being, the whole of your being. The anger that you feel,  the love that you share, the tear

By Shreya Madambath And this is a rush…. My hands are aimless and scribbling, My mind has no thoughts but my hands are guiding me. This is me. This is art. This is poetry that speaks through the soul. It has character, except the rush of excitement as it is being written. It has no form, no structure, except the poet writing it. This is me. This is my art. By Shreya Madambath

By Shreya Madambath Several nights ago, I had a dream. Several years ago, when I was just a child, these dreams would be windows. Windows to a future far ahead. Windows to a world far beyond. Windows through which eyes that had no bounds could see anything lying miles ahead, miles away. Several nights ago, when I woke up with a start, the stirring in my chest, too painful. I wish I was with my mother then. Her eyes could see everything. Several nights ago, I had a dream. And

By Shreya Madambath Here in a train seat, lying down, I wonder about the incessant thoughts crossing my mind, rendering me sleepless. I think back to the old days; the innocent childhood and the wonder that kept me awake. I think about the rhythm of my heart,  the silent wonder that made me keep my eyes open in even the darkest of nights. At near midnight, I still lay with my eyes open. My eyelids, hooded and heavy. I seek home. The nights away have kept me awake. The nights

By Ankit Rathore One morning, the sun rose from the west— confused, tired, dragging heat like a misplaced promise. Trees whispered backwards, leaves growing into seeds, roots loosening from earth as forests floated toward the sky, searching for a home among clouds. Oceans climbed mountains, salt turning to snow, whales soaring like forgotten angels while eagles drowned in silent waves. Rivers flowed upstream— fish swam toward their birth, time folding like weak paper, memorie

By Ankit Rathore She began as a girl with soil on her palms, chasing dragonflies in sun-drenched fields, laughing in the language of flowing rivers, her dreams stitched in colours older than memory. Youth came like a storm— restless feet, fire in her veins, learning freedom through tears and rebellion. She stumbled through noise, carried wounds under bangles and courage in her heartbeat, her voice cracking, then rising— unbreakable. And now she sits in the hush of dawns, silv

By Ankit Rathore Somewhere, a child learns hunger before alphabets, her ribs sharper than the words she has not yet spoken. Somewhere else, a mother folds grief like laundry, neatly— because tears don’t boil rice and sorrow does not stop the clock. Cities keep breathing— coughing smoke, dreams smudged into the sky, skyscrapers rising like excuses while the homeless build homes from pieces of yesterday. War hums in the distance, a broken lullaby— nations trade bullets and prid

By Subodh P. Bais (Rajput) मैं जिंदगी जिया करता था होकर बेफिक्र, आँखो मे लिए ख्वाब हजार ,घूमा करता था अपने काम काज के सिलसिलो में दर - बदर । 2 वक्त की रोटी के लिए करता था मेहनत 3 पहर ,जीवन की अनिश्चिताओं में  जैसे  ढूंढा करता निश्चित जवाब होके बेसबर ।   कांधों पर घर की जिम्मेदारी का बोझ भी तो था बेहद ,  जिंदगी की उलझनों को सुलझाने में था हमेशा से सजग, निभा रहा था अपना हर रिश्ता हर किरदार मैं गजब । अपने सफर में बस एक खुदके सिवा मुझे हर शक्स हर चीज की थी कदर ।  इस बात से था मैं

By Subodh P Bais (Rajput) निकल जाते है किरदार एक - एक कर हमारी कहानी से,  जो कभी एहम हुआ करते थे । एक अरसे बाद जाना मैने के वो सब मेरे है ,  ये बस मेरे मन के वेहम हुआ करते थे । कहानी शुरू है ,किस्से वही है ,बेकसूर जमाना नही, तो कसूरवार हम भी नहीं है ।  अब वाकिफ है हम जमाने की फितरत से बस कहते नहीं है । वक्त के बाजार मे बीते हुए पल फिर बिकते नहीं है,  लाख कर लो कोशिशे मगर एकतरफा फर्जी रिश्ते कभी टिकते नहीं है। जो थे कभी मेरे वो अब मेरे हिस्से नहीं है ,  वो किरदार थे , या थे कि

By Agrima Singh You could laugh, Yell, Sream, Tell, Tell it’s nothing, Feel it’s nothing, Make me feel it’s nothing. So make me feel it’s nothing — Make it feel... To me — To the part of me that needs validation, To the part of me that lives on appreciation, To the part of me that breaks behind closed doors. But — I will rise — Through the darkest of nights without sun’s light. I will rise if I defeat you — Defeat myself. The part of me who lives, Laughs, Writes, Paints, Want