Wingword Poetry Competition 2025

By Girish Gopalakrishnan 

Happy is she; happy she alone;
She who lives her life on terms her own.

By Johnny John

My eyes blinked open
My day
Fuzzy first light and thoughts
Begin their crave

By Sudarshankumar Vadasserikkara

ഇലകൊഴിഞ്ഞ ശിഖരമാണു ഞാൻ
ജലകണങ്ങൾ കനവുകണ്ടുയർന്ന കൂപ്പുകൈകൾ ഞാൻ  

By Mohanish Barapatre 

I looked at a tree
And wondered, is it free?

By Mriganka Tiwary

I sink my teeth in,
Soft flesh yields easy,
Warmth spreads as I take more.

By Noor Aqudas

I met you in a wild haunted city 
where I caged myself and succumbed to pity

By Jenitta Sabu 

On paper,
I turn bold with unwavering dreams and desires,

By Pekingto Jimo 

Nine years have passed and I still feel so blue
When I think of you, doctor of renown.

By Shreya Singh

I am a bit of a hoarder,
Not a bit, actually 

By Anisha Agarwal 

This piece is written from the perspective of a person who is fascinated by a writer.

By Pahul Sachdev 

The tears which won’t stop their flow,
display only a small part of my sorrow.

By Elaine Valoris

Millions of light years away,
There is an argument happening,

By Sadhana S 

I felt confined,
So I went on a walk to clear my mind,

By Bobita Rai

There are heaps of memories long driven in the backyard,
like a rusted wheel barrow lying in a corner,

By Bhavani Tenneti 

I saw the form lying on bed,
I knew not then the look of the dead.

By Anannya Mondal

As a child, a cricket taught me,
That when I wished upon a star,

By Tejaswi Repswal 

I asked God to whisper me all his rage and worries, for hours,
And I'll pretend, all I heard was thunder

By Chakola David Paul 

Am I the fallen
Standing at the gates of Heaven

By Niharika Kashyap

Once the adventurous one in 
Nation's glorifying day

By Shreny Soman

The ink has dried out, 
Pencil shavings are spilling out

By Sabbani Laxminarayana

One day will come..
On that day,
no one will ask you about your caste!

By Hritika Kashyap

From craving for Bournvita to alcohol,
we all grew up.

By Dr. Archita Biswas 

The Earth is still fresh from bathing
In the monsoon shower,
Fragrance of jasmine and tuberose
Still lingering in the bower.

By Sumedha Rege

A tiny rill was once born 
On the cliff of a mountain high

By Chetna Jivan 

I pissed beneath a waning tree,
pale moonlight sieved through the parched leaves

By Sristy Chowdhury 

Betrayal is not a syndrome
but a craft that some people master

By Anoushka Tandon 

Covered beneath the crusty earth,

I lie, blinded and surrounded by dirt

By Shwetima Chaudhary

I breathe,
Though my grief holds tight like chilly air. 

By Saumya Juyal

चेहरे पर लगाए सभी ने मुखौटे,
भले जितने बाहर, अंदर उतने खोटे।

By Neharika Narma

I found him when I was lost.
He held my hand when I was lonely the most.