Poetry 2017 Longlist, Vikas Sharma

Believe me or have a bet

To see flying birds in crown colony.
Early in morning, standing in balcony.
Whenever going for a morning walk.
Encounter old friend, you called 'Yak'.
                                       You will feel happy, it is set.
                                       Believe me or have a bet.
Flavour of stories and  jokes in jest.
A huge gathering without any fest.
Your good presence, you can mark.
Sharing  experiences, sitting in park.
                                      You will feel light, it is set.
                                      Believe me or have a bet.
Groups come or alone at the slot.
Running,walking,linger at the spot.
People do exercise and breathe a lot.
It's a good habit, I vote ,you also vote.
                                      You will be in profit , it is set.
                                      Believe me or have a bet.
Kids are energetic, before having the food.
Jejune activities remind me the childhood.
Chuffed,chuckled smile,changes the mood.
Mental relaxation, heart also feels good.
                                      You will be in profit , it is set.
                                      Believe me or have a bet.
Add compassion in your nature.
Take care and save all creature.
Trees for earth are crown jewel.
Best thing,for pollution to expel.

                                      You will be in profit , it is set.
                                      Believe me or have a bet.

Heebies-jeebies for diseases flee away.
Get the natural oxygen,no need to pay.
Planting trees everywhere,we can find.
Greenery all around , gives peace of mind.
                                       You will be in profit,it is set.
                                       Believe me or have a bet.
Lavish on, for needy bags to fill .
No restrain, enjoy the life's thrill.
Do not take sturdy as sneaker.
Be meliorist and a kind speaker.
                                   
                                        You will agree,it is set.
                                        Believe me or have a bet.

Poetry 2017 Shortlist, Vidhi Bagadia

Why The Rainbow Had Seven Colours

Five years old
And the clothesline
By my yard
Had been a mystery
I was taught to unravel.
                         
Seven years old
And the payroll
By my fingers
Had been a mystery
I was taught to unravel.

Nine years old
And the flour
And clay of my little brother
Had been a mystery
I was taught to unravel.

Eleven years old
And the stains
On my skirt
Had been a mystery
I was taught to unravel.

Eleven, eleven –
A number so tender,
An age so naive.
My feet digging holes
Into the quicksand of
Vermillion.

I travelled,
I complied,
I bore
At the colours of black.

When all I merely had to do
Was ask and unravel the mystery
Of why the rainbow
Had seven colours
And why could not I
Be painted in them.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Varsha Anugraha

That Fateful Day

A sound. That big banging sound.
Chaos. Utter chaos all around.
I suddenly feel a burning sensation
I ignore it and look around in desperation,
She’s lying just a few feet away
Arms folded, eyes closed, let her be alive I pray.
The burning sensation hits me again
That growing incinerating pain.
But my sister is all I can think about
Her name escapes my lips like a shout,
I’m almost there but I stumble and fall
Desperately her name I call,
And that’s when I find the cause to my pain
A burnt leg and a broken window pane,
Are jutting out of my left side
I know Death is certain, the fate I cannot avoid,
Panic , anger, sadness and despair
Threaten to consume me, I gasp for air,
I crawl towards my sister and feel her hand
I feel a faint pulse, as she lies on the land.
I feel relieved to know she’ll grow up into a beautiful girl
With this though I close my eyes, and with it my world…

Poetry 2017 Longlist, V Subhadra

Widow of Pride

Far, far in the glaciers astound
Walking on the white, snowy ground,
His heavy, bulky attire shone
The pride of his country, that he'd worn.
Breathing with a cautious vigil upon his steady, living bastion,
Arms clinging to the massive shoulders
He trudged up and down the assigned region.
The cold, sharp waves slapped hard on his coarse face
Yet, alert stood he, unperturbed of the wind's trace
With his eagle-eyes static, fixed upon the limitless lands,
That is cradled in his country's tenacious hands.
His services for the homeland called for in the day or night
Amidst monstrous mountains where the sun seldom shone bright,
And he went on battling the enemies with all his might,
A seething angst to  relieve his motherland from its sorry plight.
Oblivious to hunger, oblivious to thirst
Oblivious to blood-oozing gashes, all gory and worse,
He dwelled upon his inner vigour to cross the safety wall
Ignorant of the grave dangers that may him befall.
When stood there a child and a weeping, helpless man
Caught in the clutches of the enemy's bloody hand,
A single bullet swept through the undeterred firearm
That clung to his trained hands with a royal charm.
That was the proud man, son of the beloved Mother
Bowing before whom she sought him her significant other.
Her heart swelled, unable to hide that glimpsing pride
To be named the 'missus' of a soldier, far and wide.
And one fine day landed he in a long, sealed casket
The Tri-colour wrapped graciously announcing his dismal death.
The world lauded him; a brave son of the Mother,
Who rescued her timid Children from those sadistic 'Others'.
Bruised, hit, tortured, tormented beyond thought
He smiled through the agony for the lone chance his life brought;
Brave, valiant soldiers were the only salvation
Of this once prosperous country, now a terror-struck nation.
The lady remained rigid by the mighty coffin's side
Harbouring in her heart the memories of a vivid velvety night
When her man left with a promise of waking to a glorious morn
With the country rejoicing the harmony that was to be reborn.
Now the nation breathes in peace
Now his breath is fully ceased
Now she mourns his death in quiet
Now she's a widow clad in white.
A single tear perched in her eye
Refusing to drop down and pass by,
Her heart brimmed with an unknown joy
To have lived a wife of an intrepid sepoy.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Tanusha Shrivastava

True Soulmate

It happened in a past time,
There was a breeze with a little chime.
We met with our strange eyes,
 You were a child and so was I but my heart doesn’t lie.
Today we are big enough to understand our childhood love,
And our love grows somewhere in a cloying heart.
Everyday we live in each other and you understand me with your mesmerising eyes.
You wept my tears and offered your shoulder in a beautiful night,
 And I love the way you coddled me everytime.
We shared our feelings and our relationship took a new turn,
There was a hidden love among the cohurt.
Your prayer protected me from their rebelling mind,
But the time didn’t accepted our feelings.
The Romeo nightmare came true and cohurt separated us that night.
You left me with a heavy heart and our chapter came to an end…
I waited for you to tell what feelings were inside me.
Today wherever are you on this earth I promise,
 I you will stay in my heart till my last breath.
I slept forever in the lap of nature with a belief that in another sunshine,
I will live again in that cherub to complete my love life…

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Syed Mufeed

SLAVERY OF DESIRES

Gone are the days of slavery- for human, a human.
Human desires have made him its slave,
He becomes weak for desires are brave.
He wakes up with millions of such,
But lie down not fulfilling much.
The worst to be named is desire of fame,
He does all bad and evil for his name.
Loses his identity for being well known,
The lust of desires makes him unknown.
Who remembers once you are gone?
Do some good deeds since you are born.
For good deeds remain before and after,
Even they are useful in the hereafter.
Deep in the valley of desires you are lost,
For sure you have shown your low cost.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Swetha Sadanand

Come Winter

Come winter, her smile will lose its charm
Seemingly unhindered, she will go on her daily prowl unarmed
The fire of the angst accommodated within, an opportunity
Chills and shivers-temporary companions, not so distant the winter dream
Come winter, sleepless nights and tough days are bound to take a toll
Seemingly unhindered, she will walk on the trail set by her deadly foes
Her little ones, too little to know of her bravery
Countable are the days left until they join her quest to reach the winter dream
Come winter, she will fear for lives of her beloved and her own
Her struggles, not new to her kind yet better left unknown
How she survives and helps thrive are skills she will continue to teach
Till the time will come for her to hope that winter was only a scary dream

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Swetha M Surendran

Lost Legacies

Lost are the legacies
That once lit up your life.
Now fasten your memories
to your sealed heart; move on.
What you felt for others
was never nourished by anyone.
So stop pretending you care
and rise up to meet the worse.
Cease your futile efforts to
cross the sea of commitments.
Base your vision of future
to thrive in adversities; to shine.
Embrace the ideals of reality
even if it is bitter to the core.
Never be so transparent that
others could see through you.
Meet me in a world where

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Swathy Krishna R

Kaleidoscope

Open your windows and doors,
Listen to the chirpy birds in the morning,
Never miss the sunset in the evening,
Touch the fine grasses and feel their gentleness.
Get yourself delighted to see-
the smiles of beautiful flowers.
Hear the voices that are lost in the noise.
See the sights that are hidden amidst the chaos.
Look around and notice the surroundings.
We can see different facets of life,
different people and their different ways.
Wipe out the stains of jealousy and selfishness.
Paint your mind’s canvas with the colours of love.
 Always try to feel the warmth of love,
and work to spread the rays of hope.
Stop surfing and start serving.
If we are peaceful, if we are happy,
We can blossom like a flower.
Delighted in the knowledge of peace,
expose the spirit of oneness.
Nurture the divinity embedded by-
The creator in each of us.
Be like the star which-
Never wavers from the steady faith.

Poetry 2017 Longlist Surbhi Grover

The Scars of Beauty

Unmarried and eager
Waiting for her prince
On a white horse.
He did come
But on a bike
With acid in his hands.
Marring her face
He left her wishing
She were less pretty.
For had she been that,
He wouldn’t have had
The need
To conquer.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Sunayna Pal

The Explorer

Suntanned, but happy feet,
Remind me of the traveled street.
Drained, but not empty yet,
The road and me, lost in our duet.

Pedicured feet may stay indoors,
Grass and breeze will heal my sores.
Until open, hungry eyes desire more.
Unchained heart, always ready to soar.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Sukanya Majumdar

Untitled

Neon street lamps, rain drops, freshly baked nostalgia
I see myself along with you, on rusty railings
Under the coastal moon: the salty breath of
poignant adieus, bringing us together where lovers have kissed.
But, we were not lovers.
Unwelcomed reminisciences, sad movies and yet burnt bridges still remain my
Favourite spot for an evening walk.
Scarred, hence not scared.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Sravani Singampalli

A Macabre Dream

Fireflies in their perilous eyes
Humongous their bodies
Behemoth in their demeanour
Tempestuous was the wind.
Wine-red were my tears
Crippled were their thoughts
Sprinting through the woods
Grisly things in my vicinity
Jeopardized my life.
Breaking free from monstrosity
Ashen-faced with cold feet
I became downhearted
Lost in the bizarre world.
I tried hard to escape
Those dark unfathomable eyes
My life became a spine-chilling tale
Howling sounds from behind.
Thunder in the sky seemed
Like temper tantrums
Of a frustrated old man.
The Behemoths still chasing
Their teeth like white daggers
Trying to taste
My cherry-red blood
At last clutched in their hands
Their fingers resembling
The pillar-like prop roots
Of a banyan tree.
I screeched hard with pain
My heart beating at the
Speed of a bullet train
I closed my eyes
Praying to god
To save my life
Reassured to discover my reality
As I opened my eyes.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Souvik Kundu

You Don't Know

You don’t know I checked the notification window
each and every time message alarm beeps.
You don’t know my book told me that I was crying
when two drops of water fell on it.
You don’t know I love to sit on a particular bench
where I wrote your name when you were late for class.
You don’t know how spacious it feels under an umbrella
when I walk alone in rainy days.
You don’t know when I order two tea mistakenly
then the shopkeeper gives a sarcastic smile.
You don’t know one of the branches is broken
that I never noticed when I used to sit beside you.
You don’t know I used to write your name
in rain bathed window and erase it so that no one can see.
You don’t know I told you I am upset
not because of you just to see you happy.
You don’t know I spelt the same sentence in different ways
that you commented on facebook and got confused.
You don’t know I smiled when I was walking
beside the café and saw a couple sat on that exact place.
You don’t know I love you more than me
but that I haven’t told since you don’t feel the same.
You don’t know I am writing the poem to you
but you are thinking it’s for somebody else.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Sounak Sinha Biswas,

Growing Up

I remember the days when we were young,
To nursery rhymes we had danced and sung.
We questioned the world’s behavior a lot
Why things looked like what they were not.

Now we’ve grown up and seen the world,
Waiting patiently as its secrets unfurled.
Now we know why it’s like this,
Now we know why there’s no bliss.

But simply knowing is useless,
It’s not the key to happiness.
Now we’re part of the world as well,
Whether it’s good or evil, heaven or hell.

The seasons change seamlessly,
And we wait for that dawn to arrive
When the world would be a ‘better place’
For which we would not have to strive.

The Earth endlessly grows in size,
And we put up more barbed wires,
Building walls instead of bridges,
Pretending to be deaf on hearing gun fires.

So, why is the world like this?
Look anywhere, there is no bliss.
Haven’t we found the answer yet?
It’s in front of you yet impossible to get.

Poetry 2017 Longlist Soumya Swagatika Swain

Rains, Request And A Cup Of Cappuccino

I leaned against the window pane;
The curtains flinched at my touch.
I let the windows fly open,
Like a bird from its golden cage.
         
The waiting winds gushed in,
And smooched the locks on my temple.
And a little drop of pearl dived into my cappuccino;
An adrenaline rushed, “What was it?”
I peeped outside, and what I saw I couldn’t believe’
The heavens had heard me, my hungry prayers.
I saw the silver threads spinning down,
Freshly plucked from the Crown of Ishtar.
My roses were smiling, wider than ever,
My lilies were dancing, even charming, even gayer.
A sprite has come down, cladding the earth with joy and green,
And lo! Takes birth this welcome ode to rain of mine.
I can hear a million hearts, pounding with joy,
With this soothing drizzle to quench their thirst.
I can hear a million of them singing with gusto,
The heavenly showers, a welcome note.
The rivers are puffing up with delight,
They know that the time has finally come.
They will become the gorgeous ones of the days of young,
And fall into the embracing arms of the ocean once more.
The fields were dry and lifeless corpse alike;
You’ve brought them a new reason to live, a new glee.
You grasped the grief of the parted lovers,
You brought the love messages of the clouds down to fields.
The world had consigned to the mere oblivion,
The croaky baritone of the frog.
But now I can hear the frog croaking unrivalled,
Thanking you for descending on the earth.
For days unending, I had heard the trees mourn and whimper,
The blazing sun had left them to painful decay.
But now I can hear them cheeping welcome songs,
You gave them their virginity and euphoria back.
The summer had sucked out the charisma of the kids,
They had forgotten their cock-a-hoop lives.
But you were kind enough to bless their little prayers,
Now, I can see their paper boats swirling and twirling.
Eyes went wet seeing the miserable farmers,
They felt wretched, their livings at stake.
But you’ve brought a new rainbow into their lives,
They’re shedding, but this time, tears of happiness.
You’ve returned the earth its lost gaiety,
Everyone is merry-making your arrival.
I too welcome you wholeheartedly,
But yes writing about you, my cappuccino has gone cold.
Dear rains, all powerful and strong,
I’ve a last request to make, will you please listen?
There’s a corner of the world that desperately needs you,
Will you please wash away their fear and pain?
Every single heather of Syria is stained with blood,
The flowing rivers have become red.
The land is splashed with the innocent’s amber,
Thousands are crying with agony and are forlorn.
Do let your drops of gems, so soothing like elixir,
Wash away the horrible bloody stains.
Let them wash away all the havoc, hatred,
The fear, agony, anguish, from hearts of people.
I know you can cleanse the poison of hatred,
You can clad the land with the sash of peace and tranquility.
And I swear, the day you stop that storm of violence………..
I shall you dedicate you a hot cup of cappuccino
And proudly sing this welcome ode of mine.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Simran Raturi

SONG OF THE MOONLIGHT

As I try to put my thoughts to rest,
From the battles we performed our best.
I look outside the solemn window,
Showing trees lined in a row.
I stumble upon the peeking moon,
Lying to me, glittering my room.
Betraying the reality of everything,
In gleaming moonlight bathing;
To achieve a surreal beauty,
Stands facing the world before tea.
The clouds try to bring justice,
But fail to the winds accomplice;
To the glorifying dance of the leaves,
In the mountains with gentle breeze.
The daughters of night wide awake,
Charming petals as soft as cake,
Sifting through patterns of cheer and life,
But one day towards death they all strive.
Then they all ask the sky almighty,
To make them eternal like their deity.
But the sky just laughs and rumbles,
And chooses the dawn to crumble
The dreams of the thousand followers,
Who used to be skilled wanderers.
Soon the brighter daughter takes her place
And into the brightness she fades,
Singing a lovely tune for,
The loved ones in night who won the war.

Poetry 2017 Featured, Simran Arora

1947

Crisp, cold and crimson red
Herculean bodies sealed in futility,
Laid on the bed of their homeland,
Absorbing the smell of sweating flowers-
Blossoming, no longer;

Hot autumn shedding of tattered saffron, white and green;
Resignation from ancestral homes for a no mans land;
Shielding oneself from the unnecessary slaughter
By donning immortal courage on mortal skin;

Blood rained,
Falling like tears of estranged lovers;
Molten dusks were swallowed by Chenab and Sutlej,
That sipped the scented wine of final serenity
Before the tumultuous storm;

The sun and the moon
Sobbed in reciprocity;
On the sight of the birth of modern birds,
In this enduring summer,
Birthed to never call their birthplace their own;

The bruised flesh that growled
Was a mere reaction to the noises
That meant to thrust breathing skeletons under their own land
Beneath the opaque manure of the leaves of those left
To fertile the same soil for the first steps of newborn;

Some are offsprings of two countries now;
Words pregnant with anger
and feelings born
In the hour of turmoil;

Partition,
Just a wall, right?
Between people who look, feel
And smell alike, just like colourful bouquets
With sprayed crystals of plastic poison;

Dividing them stands these intricately handcrafted threads of separation,
'Manufactured' by handcuffing religions, their fatal mythical hymns and the deaf followers-
Who could hear no last gasps of humanity.

Poetry 2017 Shortlist, Shruti Kolambikar

This Delicate Feeling

The spirits of the monks
and the antiques of love
Like wild fire a moment
And a melody the next
A dream that you want to keep on dreaming.
A dream that descends upon you like rain filled clouds on a stormy night,
thundering down, showering you
with endless affections.
Like a curse, lifted by the spirits, or the melody or the union, or just the magic of the night, I know not,
But lifted it was all the same.
The spirits, they lifted me into the air,
above the ground,
floating, but stationary.
Stagnant, not only in space but, also in time.
The spirits left my body,
But I was left floating,
then it dawned upon me,
that it wasn't the spirits that
left me in this state,
but that elating sensation
Didn't make sense to me completely
But I wouldn't bother to engage in logic,
for fear of losing this delicate feeling.

Poetry 2017 Longlist, Shreeraksha A Naik

AMIDST

I used to live amidst the wanderers,
the kind that used to get lost.
Lost in their thoughts more often than in the bushes,
the one that never got tired,
tired of the restlessness of their forlorn-ness.
I used to sing along with the tribe,
the kind that created poetry,
poetry on beauty, beauty in the scars on the face.
The ones that knew that fire told stories,
stories of how dearly the moon loved the sun.
I used to listen to the story tellers,
the kind that knew that stories lived,
Lived with their struggles and legacies.
The ones that never demurred to share their secrets,
secrets pertaining to the existence of the philosopher's stone.
I used to be with these tribes of wanderers and storytellers,
The kind that believed in goodness,
Goodness love brought to this place.
The ones that knew how to live,
Live amidst the rumbles of the disguised souls.
Happily.