Poetry

The Beauty Of Existence

The Beauty Of Existence

Culture, Poetry
Neither beneath anyone nor superior This well-trodden road whispering, “Only you are here”. My breath and my heartbeat, Such seclusion and me. It makes me believe in my existence Being able to feel the universe inside me. Each step forward, I seem to learn again and again that life is unpredictable. Being a guest on this earth, Whose life is not just a quest, an opportunity, Or a story to tell or just an experience. Leaping into the future in little tentative steps, Never quite knowing what’s to come. Everything struggling just to exist. The flow of life so turbulent outside, But delicate and fleeting inside it seems. As I walk further, I come to this realization of being blessed and alive. To even slightly comprehend this life. Is it okay to linger? Clos
Red

Red

Culture, Poetry
Red.. Was her favourite colour.. The colour of her wedding card Of the vermilion showcasing her marriage Of the bindi on her forehead Of the lipstick of her favourite brand Of the rose, she always kept under the pillow Of the saree her mother gifted Of the fingernails always polished in red She never changed colours.   Red.. Soon became the colour Of her eyes crying hours at night, and Of her blood that drained out of her wrists On one fine red evening. Her room all stained in red Where no one was caught red-handed People said, married life to be colourful For her.. It was Red Always Red. *The poem was originally published in the second edition (June 2018) of With The Coffee (Click here to download your free copy of the magazine).     
So What, If I Am A Prostitute?

So What, If I Am A Prostitute?

Culture, Poetry
I opened my eyes, I was there across the bed, All alone. The glitter of my skin, that yesterday shone, Has faded away. I walked, Stumbling on my way. Who am I? The girl of the night. Oh! For the happiness That I want to receive in the bright light. My virgin heart, My bruised body. My survival, Is my struggle. You eat me hungrily at night, But under the warm sun rays, You will look at me from the corner of your eyes. Questioning along with others, You win the glory of your clean character. So what, if I am a prostitute? Who the hell are you? No, I am not pure, But yes, I don't fake innocence like you. My subsistence, Is in your existence But shhh!!! Let me take the blame. I am the predator and you are the innocent prey Let me walk towards the darkness,...
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