Welcome to the community blog of DelSlam. Here you can read about the work we do and the poets we support. Share your thoughts in the comments section.
By Siya Kohli
I dunno if I could ever figure outThe mystery behind my dreams
By Milisha Yadav
The grass felt moist around his skin, breeze was cold and his whole body had this sting, as if someone had...
By Aryan Somesh Gupta
We have become so heartlessPure souls so rare to find
By ILINA SINHA
Summer breaks meant dusty village roads, home,golden beetles and fireflies that slipped into our bedroom at night.
By Varsha Singh Tomar
क्रोधित हूँ , आक्रोश हैना जाने कैसी सोच है
By Madhusraba Mohanty
By Saim Khan
She was far from what she wanted,Away from the sea,Of her lusty desires and so was I
By Mingma Choekyi Zimba Tamang
Preserved mango pickles dried up in the scorching sun. Its oily contents drenching the Persian rug.
By Abinesh Kumar
In musical parlance, there exists a word to describe a certain category of music fans. These fans are creatures of the night
By Anjali Hans
Warm days streaked brown and gold, tied with twigs and pebbles and collected in pockets, and carried and proffered to Mother
By Radhika Pradhan
Before I start my tale, I want you to visualize the space that I grew up in, the space that designed my body, the space that viewed me
By Janesis Fernandes
Waking up on a hot summer day in Ludhiana meant waking up to the constant buzzing of the flies.
By Kiran Mishra
A soft grin escaped his lips for a miniscule moment when he saw her while moving up the stairs, to take the center stage.
By Aqsa Eram
Exiting the railway station, a drizzle came upon me like a sinking cloud. It was still dark outside and I could see no taxis or auto-rickshaws around.
By Adya Ghoshal
Beads of sweat poured down her face, As she sat there totally immersed
By Simran Jasubhai
There was something about sunlight and old books that filled me with warmth and enveloped me in a hug so tight
By Arjama Bakshi
This concrete lilac submarine of mine floats, distantly, there are no clouds on my sky
By Paurnami Raveendranath
The oranges, and yellows, and the sun.Cycling around the block in the hot summer heat
By Sharodi Hazarika
The smell of burnt wood and almost summer sits on my nose like the blanket I tighten around my body every time they mistake me for a ghost.
By Vanshika Kakkar
'Nature wants us to have pleasure.' This is the absolute truth about our existence. Eroticism, a medium for spirit's sensual self-expression
By Nikhil Bharadwaj
A vexing conundrum I bodily scent,With the onset of every Indian summer.
By Sneha Sharma
I want it and I want it now,For you to forget all courtesy,The gentleman in you I know won't be pleased
By Swati goswami
Crushed leaves and grass, tasty tangy smells of summer.
By Krupali Patel
Summertime is cubicle living. The cat gets the fleas and this terrace room that has lived beyond its years sheds some skin.
By Shivanshee Rathore
Grace did not know that she was being watched through her next-door neighbour’s window. She was enjoying reading
By Sakshi Kshirsagar
In the creases of sheets,You twirl
By Lavanya Joshi
Remember the excitementThe awaiting of the summer vacationThe eagerness to lay in the hot summer breeze
By DEBANGANA DAS
when i imagine you,father, as a child,i see you in summer
By Swathy Janardhanan
Summer is a colour. Of burnt grass sheaths, of pompous weddings, and of plump oranges.
By Arsch Sharma
He stroked himself lying on the bed, and the back-lit phone screen hurt his eyes. “What kind of role play do you have in mind, hon?”
