Five Poems
By Karthik Venkatesh
Your faux rebellion
convinced no one.
Your social conscience
was a smokescreen
for your ideological vacuousness.
By Karthik Venkatesh
Your faux rebellion
convinced no one.
Your social conscience
was a smokescreen
for your ideological vacuousness.
By Rohith
is mother’s vagina a cliff
from which the infant tumbles
and falls throughout its life?
By Tikuli
I breathe deeply, eyes closed,
inhale the aromas that we once shared,
the crackling warmth of wood stove,
the tang of our salt-laced bodies.
By Archita Mittra
all words are only a black-faced pretext
to fill up the
e m p t y
s p a c e s
in the dusty, abandoned
parking lots of your heart.
By Mary Ann Chacko
Like the safety of a garbage dump to a street dog beaten and left to die,
So is poetry to me;
A place to lick my wounds.
By Goirick Brahmachari
The smoky roof has given up. It leaks memory drop by drop
On to my sink. The staircase is
Breaking, falling apart. Insects
Have taken over the corridor.
By Anubhav Majumdar
In darker days
In colder nights
In us holding
Not just our hands
But our lives.
By Poornima Laxmeshwar
I am the river with a snake in my womb,
I prey on your hunches,
I am a linear with no variables,
I am made up of my ocean with disobedient waves,
I am the guilt that comes with pleasure.
By Willie Gordon Suting
He sees those words dance in the air
He wickedly smiles as he mumbles
and mumbles “Me…am…poet…”
By Sahana Mukherjee
Ten years from now,
I’ll have forgotten why you
chose halfways over my
house.
By Namrata Pathak
Boundary-breaking is all about eating a pomegranate.
It is a juicy rebellion after all. In a portfolio of
succulent half-truths, circular, the end being the beginning,
she becomes her own food.
By Tanushree Ghosh
But why then her eyes were always searching
For an approval
Why she tried so hard – to make the rotis round?