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Showing posts with label poetry 2014 contest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry 2014 contest. Show all posts
Monday, 10 November 2014
Friday, 10 October 2014
Wednesday, 10 September 2014
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Vishal Gupta
Angel Gates
She lay on silk
empty eyes, looking up for meaning
Hands, still as mountains
lips, frail as leaves
He lays a finger on her navel,
remembering, each moment of pleasure
A tear falls on her, glistening on her body
He sees it for a long time, he knows the time has come
Flashes of memories go by his eyes
flashes, were all there had been
Never taking time, to savor a moment
Always, saving his precious time for future
Today, he felt no need to rush
clocks turned away, deceiving time
Clocks, which once his eyes scrounged for
had their backs turned in shame
He touched her lips with his, trying to remember
Love, which was always his, which he never embraced as his own
He ran his hand up to her throat, which words had abandoned
Now she lay, breathing, heart beating, blood running, alive
He did not move till his eyes blurred
the boundaries of her being with the world
He did not care to wipe the tears, he knew where his blade lay
Minutes, hours, maybe days before he lay his hand on steel
The shallow breaths stopped
He heard heartbeats; he knew they were not hers
The blade took her, but not without any pain
He cried himself to death
- 2 -
The ceiling felt like a part of her
She knew each layer, dent and texture
She knew he was not a coward
She knew he loved her enough
Yet, he took a long haul
One haul, was all she had asked for
before she left, he had conceded
She felt the touch of his hands, just before she had to leave
A brilliant light entered her eyes
Yet, it was unable to blind
She was not lying anymore, nor was she a stand
But she knew it mattered not, for the gates were now open
She did not walk, but simply entered
It weren’t clouds beneath her, but nor was it ground
She knew she’d broken the cycle, and now was the time to rest
In her final hours, she received the final blessing
Love
Poetry 2014 Featured Poet, Subramanian Shankar
Musky Daydream?
We met at karaoke.
I felt our eyes meet and
Our voices went
Voulez vous.
I felt our eyes meet and
Our voices went
Voulez vous.
Your quicksilver eyes,
Restless as mischief,
Could roast
coffee beans
in my soul.
Restless as mischief,
Could roast
coffee beans
in my soul.
Our wits sparred
in fertile repartee,
Your muse sharpening
my wordsmith’s tools.
in fertile repartee,
Your muse sharpening
my wordsmith’s tools.
And you sing, you paint,
you train, you rhyme.
You mother progress
with every ounce
Of musk breath.
you train, you rhyme.
You mother progress
with every ounce
Of musk breath.
Your pride
Evident
in all your hurt.
Evident
in all your hurt.
‘You are so interesting,’ you say..
Leaving me with a smile
That flattens,
Gasping
for new lease
of life.
Leaving me with a smile
That flattens,
Gasping
for new lease
of life.
You are special. But busy.
You have responsibilities,
I just have responses.
You have responsibilities,
I just have responses.
Our lights flash at each other,
And blink in sync.
And blink in sync.
But can they fuzz
into a lovebeam,
Spiralling
into ecstatic
abandon?
into a lovebeam,
Spiralling
into ecstatic
abandon?
Maybe time won’t tell,
Maybe the falling mercury
Already has.
Maybe the falling mercury
Already has.
But who can forget
your sparkling presence,
Gushing scent?
your sparkling presence,
Gushing scent?
Your bountiful face with
Its sumptuous curves,
Can spark a million fireflies
Into trailblazing destinies.
Its sumptuous curves,
Can spark a million fireflies
Into trailblazing destinies.
My spark I fight to keep alive.
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Shrestha Roy
A Night's Valour
I have embraced the nights..
Fallen in love with all its dense rides,
with hypnotic slides.
Days with petty hopes,
yet i grope the black,
I chose the midway crack;
Blinking into the reality,
standing meticulously,
strong and mighty,
I have turned into a devil with tremendous wit,
a dash of humour,
strengthening my armour....
the lonesome sadness is devoured.
The nights hook me at first sight,
devilish thoughts with delight,
that blights the light,
slithering onto the skin....
Darkness gliders in, just like its tonight.
Fallen in love with all its dense rides,
with hypnotic slides.
Days with petty hopes,
yet i grope the black,
I chose the midway crack;
Blinking into the reality,
standing meticulously,
strong and mighty,
I have turned into a devil with tremendous wit,
a dash of humour,
strengthening my armour....
the lonesome sadness is devoured.
The nights hook me at first sight,
devilish thoughts with delight,
that blights the light,
slithering onto the skin....
Darkness gliders in, just like its tonight.
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Shravya Gunipudi
An Unveiled Threat
The brook flows endlessly bubbling with foam,
following the cheerful chirping of bluebirds high above,
Showers of rain create
tiny streams
among sharp blades of grass,
eagerly running to merge with the brook,
adding to its pleasant song,
drop by drop.
The luscious leaves of the towering trees,
dance to merry melody,
their branches swinging in delight.
Approaching closer,
Trespassing footsteps,
Unwelcome, unwanted
Nature’s tune stalls,
a second unsure,
at the uninvited guests stepping on their souls.
After a moment’s pause,
it starts again,
this time hauntingly melancholic.
The birds screech,
flapping around - trees starting to sway,
inviting storm and thunder.
Taking part,
the brook calls out, the wind coming together,
to ferociously protest the entrance of the two legged creatures.
Their threatening presence,
Stripping Nature,
Endangered existence
following the cheerful chirping of bluebirds high above,
Showers of rain create
tiny streams
among sharp blades of grass,
eagerly running to merge with the brook,
adding to its pleasant song,
drop by drop.
The luscious leaves of the towering trees,
dance to merry melody,
their branches swinging in delight.
Approaching closer,
Trespassing footsteps,
Unwelcome, unwanted
Nature’s tune stalls,
a second unsure,
at the uninvited guests stepping on their souls.
After a moment’s pause,
it starts again,
this time hauntingly melancholic.
The birds screech,
flapping around - trees starting to sway,
inviting storm and thunder.
Taking part,
the brook calls out, the wind coming together,
to ferociously protest the entrance of the two legged creatures.
Their threatening presence,
Stripping Nature,
Endangered existence
Poetry 2014 Third Prize, Shloka Shankar
A Monostich -
soundless origami dreams drenched in moonlight
Visual Poetry - A Dream - Taken from Emily Dickinson's poem, 'Life'
Poetry 2014 Shortlist, Shashi Deodhar
UNTITLED
lino relief print
this summer only
frogs and fireflies
this summer only
frogs and fireflies
Poetry 2014 Featured Writer, Paresh Tiwari
Separation
That day you packed up
all the arguments and quarrels,
folding them neatly
along the crisp creases of guilt,
you stuffed them in a suitcase
and left...
leaving behind rows and rows
of empty hangers,
on which I drape the limp silence
that I peel off my body each night
all the arguments and quarrels,
folding them neatly
along the crisp creases of guilt,
you stuffed them in a suitcase
and left...
leaving behind rows and rows
of empty hangers,
on which I drape the limp silence
that I peel off my body each night
Poetry 2014 Shortlist, Neelam Harpalani
The good thing about falling into pieces is that humans can do it so quietly.
Insanely numb - That’s the point you reach when you’ve been walking the disturbing path endlessly.
Seen memories fade, felt it so deep that the wounds have silently soaked in the blood, have been hit by reality so hard and so raw, that feelings do not surface anywhere around.
The worst has ended and the worst has seen you alive.
The air gushing through your fingers is no dream; it is perhaps a sweet reminder of what could have been, what did not and what it takes to pick life over death.
The crushing sound of your soul will make you want to deceive life and get to the absolute end.
But the end is not coming easy.
The end requires you to drown an inch deeper into the leftovers of past each day forward.
It requires you to breathe in the toxic love and exhale the wisdom of surviving through the breath taking sighs!
The way towards the end is insanely numb.
The only end possible now, is a steady crawl of your dying soul, with the power of a revengeful destiny that keeps u breathing in broken pieces.
Poetry 2014 Shortlist, Neelam Chandra Saxena
ACTS OF VENGEANCE
The acts of vengeance and retaliation
Never have led to the doors of salvation.
Never have led to the doors of salvation.
From the ages of eon, time has proved
Be it a king, a sage or a pauper,
A vindictive mind neither reaps any rewards
Nor allows one to walk with a head held high.
King Kalmashpada blocked the narrow bridge on the river.
Shakti, the son of Rishi Vashishtha enraged by this action
Cursed him to turn into a Rakshasa;
No sooner did the curse materialise, a Rakshasa he turned indeed,
With an appetite for human flesh and blood
Made Shakti himself his first victim.
Be it a king, a sage or a pauper,
A vindictive mind neither reaps any rewards
Nor allows one to walk with a head held high.
King Kalmashpada blocked the narrow bridge on the river.
Shakti, the son of Rishi Vashishtha enraged by this action
Cursed him to turn into a Rakshasa;
No sooner did the curse materialise, a Rakshasa he turned indeed,
With an appetite for human flesh and blood
Made Shakti himself his first victim.
The thirsty King Parikshit , for water ordered
To a sage lost in meditation deep.
Seeing him unable to oblige,
In anger, picked up a snake only to garland the sage’s neck!
And lo, cursed was he to die within a week by a snake bite!
His fate he could not escape bestowed to him by his deeds own.
To a sage lost in meditation deep.
Seeing him unable to oblige,
In anger, picked up a snake only to garland the sage’s neck!
And lo, cursed was he to die within a week by a snake bite!
His fate he could not escape bestowed to him by his deeds own.
When the Kuru brothers, with uncle Shaukuni planned death,
Burning the lac Palace,
To eliminate the Pandavas
Who not only escaped,
Later went on to win the battle
Of Mahabharata
Of Dharma!
Burning the lac Palace,
To eliminate the Pandavas
Who not only escaped,
Later went on to win the battle
Of Mahabharata
Of Dharma!
The acts of vengeance and retaliation
Never have led to the doors of salvation;
Yet, we keep watching in disdain
Against each other,Nations fighting,
The terrorists taking innocent lives
Nuclear bombs exploding across cities
Holding thousands of prisoners of wars…
Never have led to the doors of salvation;
Yet, we keep watching in disdain
Against each other,Nations fighting,
The terrorists taking innocent lives
Nuclear bombs exploding across cities
Holding thousands of prisoners of wars…
If only wisdom and prudence could be drawn from the past
And the present painted with their hues
Would our craving eyes glimpse
A world of harmony and peace!
And the present painted with their hues
Would our craving eyes glimpse
A world of harmony and peace!
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Namitha Varma Rajesh
The Day She Stopped Painting
Brush in hand,
she stood at the window sill,
waiting for inspiration.
The swish and zoom and honk of vehicles
could not do for symbols of life.
Chattering schoolchildren,
busy pedestrians,
offered only so many tales.
A touch on her shoulder
startled her musings --
her uncle stood leering behind her.
Before she could find her voice,
he was done.
A blood-stained canvas,
torn clothes,
scattered paint.
There was no evidence for the public.
While she walked from one clinic to another,
the empty canvasses in her room
wept silently.
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Meena Nair
Broken life
My empty can of drugs,
and over used pills.
My dishevelled closet,
and bloody bruise.
It reminds of turmoil,
dragged over to the edge.
Sufferings delight me,
and reminiscence sucks!
My dusty half blank diary,
and broken pen.
My crumpled torn pages,
all scattered one.
It reminds of loneliness,
pinned up strong on wall.
Satan mocks at me,
and devil rise, above all.
Poetry 2014 Shortlist, Manasa Komaravolu
Out of My Window
Four oak trees tall
And mighty were they
A mightier wind tried to
Blow them away
Four oak trees tall
And mighty were they
A mightier wind tried to
Blow them away
I was inside but
they wouldn’t le me be
Pulling at my senses
To come out and see
they wouldn’t le me be
Pulling at my senses
To come out and see
A white dove then
Entered the landscape
Chained me to the window
Cut off my escape
Entered the landscape
Chained me to the window
Cut off my escape
I was compelled to
Do more than just stare
But to the great outdoors
My words can’t compare
Do more than just stare
But to the great outdoors
My words can’t compare
On and on it went
The wind blew
The oaks fought
And the little bird flew
The wind blew
The oaks fought
And the little bird flew
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Mahathi
MY LAST GOOD BYE
ye come for once
to the arbor O' dear
to kiss thee, my last good bye.
let us revisit the shady cove;
listen to the moans
of crushing soil again
underneath our wiggling bodies
and smell the greens around.
to the arbor O' dear
to kiss thee, my last good bye.
let us revisit the shady cove;
listen to the moans
of crushing soil again
underneath our wiggling bodies
and smell the greens around.
recall what winds once demurred
"road-blocks"
do you remember
what the twigs
and entwined creepers
exclaimed looking at us:
"how could they do that,
Oh, creepy-slimy, ah, ah, ah
cheee, cheee, cheeee!"
"it's called embrace"
sighed a pigeon.
"nay, nay, it's complecting"
explained a keenly watching serpent.
"It's amplexation" argued a toad.
At last clarified
a little bunny-scientist
"it's melding! "
"road-blocks"
do you remember
what the twigs
and entwined creepers
exclaimed looking at us:
"how could they do that,
Oh, creepy-slimy, ah, ah, ah
cheee, cheee, cheeee!"
"it's called embrace"
sighed a pigeon.
"nay, nay, it's complecting"
explained a keenly watching serpent.
"It's amplexation" argued a toad.
At last clarified
a little bunny-scientist
"it's melding! "
how much we laughed
how much we laughed
how much we laughed
it's time we carefully conceal
those sweet everythings
deep inside our hearts.
believe me, never exhausts
that divine nectar
and ever shade us
those romantic moments.
those sweet everythings
deep inside our hearts.
believe me, never exhausts
that divine nectar
and ever shade us
those romantic moments.
yeah, yeah
ye come for once
to the arbor O' dear
to kiss thee, my last good bye.
ye come for once
to the arbor O' dear
to kiss thee, my last good bye.
Poetry 2014 Shortlist, K V Raghupati
My Trunk Box
In my house there lies a trunk box
occupying three feet by two feet space in a corner
faded, rusted and wounded
that was gifted to me while I was eighteen
by my father who passed away eight winters ago.
It’s now antique but very much Indian with grey
jammed with memories –
decades of letters, envelopes stuck with all different kinds of stamps,
album of my yoga postures, old photos, blurry photos,
three full manuscripts and an incomplete manuscript
typed on Facit typewriter that was gifted to me by my maternal uncle
to flourish with my writings that fetched me no returns so far,
notes scribbled on pieces of paper, now brittle
two mementoes.
When I open it, the hinges squeak like a treasure chest.
I carried it whenever I moved my house.
Now it lies in the silent hiss of space covered
occupying three feet by two feet space in a corner
faded, rusted and wounded
that was gifted to me while I was eighteen
by my father who passed away eight winters ago.
It’s now antique but very much Indian with grey
jammed with memories –
decades of letters, envelopes stuck with all different kinds of stamps,
album of my yoga postures, old photos, blurry photos,
three full manuscripts and an incomplete manuscript
typed on Facit typewriter that was gifted to me by my maternal uncle
to flourish with my writings that fetched me no returns so far,
notes scribbled on pieces of paper, now brittle
two mementoes.
When I open it, the hinges squeak like a treasure chest.
I carried it whenever I moved my house.
Now it lies in the silent hiss of space covered
-with a white loin cloth like a coffin.
It is alive with me as I am alive.
The box is so dear to my heart
that I hardly said ‘yes’ to scrap dealer.
Any one doubted its existence
could walk into my house and see
the centre stage of my life
It is alive with me as I am alive.
The box is so dear to my heart
that I hardly said ‘yes’ to scrap dealer.
Any one doubted its existence
could walk into my house and see
the centre stage of my life
Poetry 2014 Longlist, K Krishna Kumar
And Then You Arrived...
There was a boy in the village, who wanted to see the falling star
He longed for that and every evening for seeing it, he went upstairs
He saw many stars, but falling star was the one that filled his mind
And one day the falling star came, by then he had become blind
There was a caged bird which waited for her freedom
As she believed only that could end her boredom
And one day her owner set her free to her sky
But then she realized that her wings had forgotten to fly
There was a little girl, who waited for a doll to be bought by his mother
As she wanted to play with the doll along with her army father
One day her mother bought her what she wanted
But then her father came in a coffin, with country's flag flaunted
And here was I, who waited for you in the journey of my life
Everyday wondering how colourful it would be if you became my wife
Waiting so long, I felt you would never come but one day you arrived
But by that time all the love I had for you had already died
He longed for that and every evening for seeing it, he went upstairs
He saw many stars, but falling star was the one that filled his mind
And one day the falling star came, by then he had become blind
There was a caged bird which waited for her freedom
As she believed only that could end her boredom
And one day her owner set her free to her sky
But then she realized that her wings had forgotten to fly
There was a little girl, who waited for a doll to be bought by his mother
As she wanted to play with the doll along with her army father
One day her mother bought her what she wanted
But then her father came in a coffin, with country's flag flaunted
And here was I, who waited for you in the journey of my life
Everyday wondering how colourful it would be if you became my wife
Waiting so long, I felt you would never come but one day you arrived
But by that time all the love I had for you had already died
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Jyotsna Bhatia
BOUND AND TIED
bound and tied
in confined spaces I lay
the world too small
but smaller are its thoughts
pleasure they gain
at nipping your wings
they haven’t flown
so how could they allow
that you be different
and follow your own path
bound and tied
in confined spaces I lay
choking
at their orthodox thoughts
hard it is here to breathe
I wish to break free
I long to just flee
flutter my wings
in those unknown skies
and follow hued dreams
in confined spaces I lay
choking
at their orthodox thoughts
hard it is here to breathe
I wish to break free
I long to just flee
flutter my wings
in those unknown skies
and follow hued dreams
the harder you try
to blend yourself into me
the harder
shall I bounce back
ferocious and fiery
bound and tied
I shall now not lay
the confined spaces
shall now
no longer contain me !!
to blend yourself into me
the harder
shall I bounce back
ferocious and fiery
bound and tied
I shall now not lay
the confined spaces
shall now
no longer contain me !!
Poetry 2014 Longlist, Judith Narayan Vaddi
Each Mountain
Each mountain I climb
The steps I take
Measured, some
Through harried breath
Are but the confirmed
Of choices defined.
Each step I plant
Through passages inclined
Each tread, every stride
A moment that declares,
This, the all and one
One and all
This journey mine.
Look upward, hold fast
Steady heart
Beat firm though loud,
And know this
This mount too
Shall be conquered
Seized, one day
Be mine.
Sometimes I fall
I stumble; and tired
Limbs and aching hearts
Doth whisper, Rest
Desist, pause a while
The steps I take
Measured, some
Through harried breath
Are but the confirmed
Of choices defined.
Each step I plant
Through passages inclined
Each tread, every stride
A moment that declares,
This, the all and one
One and all
This journey mine.
Look upward, hold fast
Steady heart
Beat firm though loud,
And know this
This mount too
Shall be conquered
Seized, one day
Be mine.
Sometimes I fall
I stumble; and tired
Limbs and aching hearts
Doth whisper, Rest
Desist, pause a while
Sometimes the chasms
Deep, doth beckon
Dark, the valleys bleak
That pauses brief
Yet cloying invites.
Deep, doth beckon
Dark, the valleys bleak
That pauses brief
Yet cloying invites.
Not yet, I murmur
Not now, not ever
The pink and white bobbing
A fairer pitch do deliver.
And so I climb, each
day, each moment
Some slow, others
Slower still;
And yet I climb
Knowing that this
Brings victory, peace
Tranquillity divine.
Not now, not ever
The pink and white bobbing
A fairer pitch do deliver.
And so I climb, each
day, each moment
Some slow, others
Slower still;
And yet I climb
Knowing that this
Brings victory, peace
Tranquillity divine.
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