Blog

Mallika

By Srishti Pandey

Poems? Poetry?
Not for me
I don't like them.
As I firmly believed in my non-creative side

By Sangeetha S

where feet rest on spoken words
kept for so long
in a treasure chest
of unfinished days;
where all of the reasons are lost
in vanilla haze

By Parul Mahajan

By Jyni Verma

We’ve built our love on endless toxicity
Burning the roses but keeping the thorns
Dancing mechanically
On a bed of jagged glass.
We pull and push and struggle.

By Akshita Sharma

By Ramandeep Kaur

Faith was aloud,

Happiness was wild,

Joys were mesmerising,

Thus everything was shining bright.

By Jayanti Kandwal

There’s a box
Hiding in a corner of my room
A little ruff on the edges
But so familiar as I hold it in my hands
Oh! It’s locked
Where’s the key?

By Adam Zagajewski

Between the computer, a pencil, and a typewriter

half my day passes. One day it will be half a century.

By Additiya Kar

Without realising my eyes would always follow and notice this old man sitting in the bus queue eating something

By Aditi Shah

Gunmetal-grey moustache, jaded crow's feet,
the derby's spoke all concrete english

By Maria Uzma Ansari

Even though I hate naming things, I could never live in cities divided into sectors

By Ishani Shambhobi Ghosh

I’d rather watch the moon
than count motorbikes to sleep

By MUKUL KUMAR

By Alivia Ghosh

The closed shutters have gathered dust
Like unvisited graveyards.

By Sumedha Chakravarthy

Somedays, the city unfurls a map of secret sunny lanes.
When I first chanced upon one such tucked-away street

By Dyondra Wilson

Walking home from work today, I saw a Korean woman setting up flowers at the back of her truck.

By Varisha Abdullah

Mama’s love for shopping was unconditional and mine, for her. So, on each trip to
the market...

By Ananya Sahoo

I live on the most peculiar street in the world,
A pretty bubble if you may...

By Harsha Sewani

I gaze outside the window,
as the sun conceals behind the clouds.

By Navneet Bahri

Bracketed by a million beginnings and endings
Born of bondage to approval and praise

By Nikunj Agnihotri

Bubbling with a childish enthusiasm in the air.
Is letting the innocent, the small black shadows

By Akshita Sharma

To hold on to a tether firm enough
To shoulder her aching heart.

By Prarthi Dholakia

It’s funny how my parents named me Bindu because I am a boy and boys are supposed to be named...

By Kamakshi Farswan

Sitting next to the car’s window, with her head resting on the door, she was admiring the view outside.

By Naphilakmen Syiemlieh

Packed with cacophony,
The hustle - bustle of the streets never seems to end

By Ada

Her energy is beyond her own league,
she has a spirit of bird,
she has the innocence of rabbit