बारिश, चाय और तुम... | Tanuja Thakur

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

एक खूबसूरत सी शाम होगी,

और होगे तुम, बारिश और चाय के साथ।

क्योंकि ख्वाब बुने हैं हमने बातों बातों में,

जब भी तय कर लेंगे सैंकड़ों फासले।

वो होगी हमारी पहली मुलाकात ,

बारिश, चाय और जिंदगी के नाम।

सावन का दिन होगा और मौसम खुशनुमा,

न कड़कती हुई बिजली होगी और न ही शोर बादलों का।

सिर्फ खिली हुई धूप और , हल्की फुलकी बौछार,

ठंडी फ़िज़ा और भीनी भीनी सी खुशबू।

गरम चाय अदरक - इलाईची वाली जिसमे,

दोस्ती का ज़ायका होगा और अपनेपन की मिठास।

बेझिझक बातें होंगी या शायद,

खामोशी में ही कट जायेगा सारा वक़्त।

हमारी मुलाकात चंद लम्हों की ही सही,

काफी होगी गर इतना ही लिखा है साथ।

याद रह जाओगे तुम और उस दिन की बारिश और चाय।

Perils of An Otherwise Ordinary Day | Geetanjali Gandhi

“I saw a blind woman on the street

& helped her cross,

she hit me hard & said,

You loser! I didn’t want to cross.

Her punch was so hard,

it made me sigh & from nowhere, I got

this gift of black eye.

Oof! How I overcame my shock & moved ahead,

Thief! Thief! then suddenly someone said.

To catch that burglar, I threw a stone,

It got misfired, hit a bee-hive,

Bees swarmed me, bit me,

somehow I escaped, swollen and barely alive.

Looking not less than a monster now,

no wonder dogs stared at me & barked bow-bow.

I ran for my life but landed in a garbage bin,

what an embarrassment, whole crowd gave me a grin.

If this wasn’t enough for the day,

some dumb had enjoyed banana treat &

thrown that useless skin on the street,

oh! What unluck I stepped over it

& that last viable bone left in me,

was now broken to a bit.

Assembling myself together, getting up,

I crouched further &

Somehow dragged to the office,

Hey stinky! Move on - were the day’s greetings,

Get away, You damn air pollution,

How I Felt completely out of service.

Washing up in Lavatory ,

Was of no help,

For all the muck, filth ,

& complementary odour,

the cleaner gave such a fierce killer look,

so terrorizing to the core,

no horror film had ever had my soul shook.

Decided to call the day off,

Much to everyone’s relief,

But reaching home –

Felt a distant belief.

Loaded then myself into a taxi

A Sniff here and sniff there,

And brain of the driver soon realized

That his Nose disparagingly has been jeopardized.

An Extra or two currency offer,

And heartening wails of olfactorily traumatized colleagues,

Pushed the brave cabbie to a sense of sacrifice,

Such unparalleled valour, triggered salutations,

Putting to culmination the community’s cries.

Delivered at my doorstep oh finally,

The doorbell I rung threatened ominously,

A fear hollowed inside me, once back,

For the unlucky chap who’ll respond,

It’s time… yeah for his heart attack.”

Enroute from Bangalore | Priyanka Bhandarkar

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

I saw a Borewell.

Then again the sun provided an immediate disguise to the copper,aluminium and plastic utensils.

A brown glaze surrounded the hours of dawn.The dew requiring no colors.The water was being flushed,the people rather living it.

A probability aspect of cleaning,washing and squatting.

The women and children standing the strength of time.Just parted the involuntary motion of those vulnerables.Finger tips holding each other.one stand.two standing.full waiting.

A packet of chips in my hand,I watched opening the window of my car.

Laughing at these stars and making fun.

These are but interpersonal and curious elements.

And I awarded a medal to myself for these observations.

The Pride of the country are the people.In this third world nation filled with intellectuals and runts.

And I count the number of buildings with much satisfaction.

Just hotels,shops and public toilets down the road.

And the service road ended.Anyways I was proud of the bridge,traffic signals and flyovers.

The roads were crowded with vehicles.The people were in jeopardy.I like on the crossroads of destiny was amazed watching the pedestrians.

Toys,flowers and raw mangoes were being sold.

The sweat,the toil and tears.

Sellers,Middle class or whores?

Or was it remorse?resentment?

Bicycles,scooters,cars and trucks…..

Once Upon A Good Time | Atharva Rewatkar

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Those were the good old days

when I'd a beautiful face to gaze.

Not that my life was filled with glee

but her support made the day for me.

Not that I led a life of regrets

something that everyone forgets

But the blanket of her bliss

cloaked them all with a kiss.

Not that Aphrodite grew jealous

of our relation so fabulous.

Since you walk along my side,

all the Happiness in me does abide.

Not that I never made you weep

and the tears that you keep

but it was your company

that made us endure the cacophony.

With beacon from the clouds grey

falling on your face as you pray.

As rays falling on the bloom

you kept me away from every gloom.

Not that I was a lover ardent

not to understand the flow of current.

Not that I tried my level best

to impose my wishes in haste.

Things got sweet sometimes

and bitter many times.

Sometimes we conversed through eyes

painted in amusing sulky dyes.

But as the Wise people say

every good time has to end one day.

No one sees the fateful tomorrow

that may be filled with joy or sorrow.

So one day conflict brew

as the tensions between us grew.

No relation cloaked by qualm

has ever ended in a manner calm.

I remained too adamant

on arguments that were scant

Suspicion in our relationship contain

which became unbearable to sustain.

Her wounds were too deep

as my tongue in her sorrow reek.

As emotions took over rationality

both of us lost our individuality.

Tears on her cheeks glistened

as her soul wanted to be listened

I was too angered and impolite

to realise her emotions in sight.

Neither did she have respect

nor did I feel the need to retrospect

When there lay no remorse.

what's the need to feel morose?

So did we decide to part

for the betterment of each counterpart

Not that I was too content

but now I had nothing left to lament.

O those Days of the Good Time!

They were surreal and sublime

As I say goodbye to you.

to traverse on roads; dark and new.

Now that I've nothing left more

nor she has anything to adore.

Now her memories do haunt me

in what wrongs I did to thee.

Colours of Life | Papia Ghosh

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

I sat on the sand dunes of time,

With stardust of happiness rumpling my curls,

Watching the rainbow of desires smile across the heavens,

Gazing at the surging colours of life rushing by.

Life, a maelstrom of rich colours,

Overflowing from the Creator’s palette,

Diverging and melding into new hues,

Frolicking in gaiety, filling every void.

Dancing on the swirling foam

Sailed many a kindred and friend,

Their white bellowing sails filled the horizon,

I watched them move to eternity round the bend.

Their paths had crisscrossed mine,

Some with gravelly colourful pebbles

Adorned with fragrant exotic flowers,

Life’s garden of joys and sorrows filling my earthly hours.

My jars of camaraderie basting in the sun,

Pickled with spices of love and hate

Tickled my tastebuds, inviting me,

As I licked my fingers to understand their taste.

They metamorphosed my path of monotony

Into valleys of adventures and ravines of risk,

Where my fate ran into blind lanes,

With near death experiences all too brisk.

The gentle drops of rain mingled in warm tears

moistened my dust stained soul,

healing the clandestine crevices of my broken heart,

With rays of romantic hopes, filling every hole.

The unruly winds carried wisps of my moments

Over the waters of the choppy sea,

Where death overrules life,

Germinating a new life, a new me.

The Pain That I Went Through | Ricky Kmenlang Mawlong

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Life has taught me many things.

Since my childhood, life seems to have no meaning.

Poverty stuck us really down.

We were not the many of that town.

As I go further ahead with life

Each day I was struggling to strife.

Every kid of my age seems so happy.

I consider myself to be born unlucky.

Giving up was almost in all my veins.

Drought experience even when there’s a rain.

Seven siblings we live together.

We do feel empty, and no one could figure.

Our sweety Mum is so busy.

To make us stay strong and healthy.

Our dad run away and left us just like that.

O our world was in chaos and was really shattered.

Many years we beg and cry for help.

Neighbours do laugh at us whenever we seek help.

Looking us down was their only thing.

Our only dream was to the best thing.

Sickness came and stroked us one by one.

Death with its sting even came to haunt.

God was the only assurance.

Though our prayers were not answered at a glance.

Faith do keep us to fly ahead.

Weak and fragile we always fight till death.

Yeah, our eldest won the victory.

And others thought it’s only a mystery.

We did our best to climb for success.

All of us we did our very best.

Though poverty lived on our way

We grow and live whenever we pray.

We all now thanking to God.

Who is the only one who has not forgot.

Sheltering us all from shamed and pained

He blessed us from time and again.

Now that I have been freed from the past.

Life has taught me to handle every task.

Love and understanding are on my veins.

To help the other who is still in pain.

O life! how beautiful you are

I will spread you name to near and far.

You once taught me as how to live.

And now it's my time on how to give.

பெண்கள் | Haritha Jennifer D

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

பிஞ்சுக்கு உயிர்

கொடுப்பவள் நீயே!

நஞ்சுக்கு உயிரேடுப்பவலும்

நீயே காளியாக!

வேண்டாம்வேணடாமென்று அன்று பிறந்தாலும்

வேண்டும்வேண்டும் என்றளவுக்கு இன்று

பலராலும் போற்றப்பட்டு நாட்டின்

கண்களாகியது நம் பெண்களே!!

உன்னைக் கருவிலேயே

கலைக்கத் துடிப்போரையும்

உன் இதயம்

துடிக்கும் வரை

நிலைக்க வைப்பவள்

நீ அல்லவா!

பெண்ணே நீ

வெறுங்கலை அல்ல!

ஏனென்றால் நீ

அருபதில் ஒன்றல்ல!!

அருபதையுமே உன்னில்

வைத்திருக்கும் பெருங்கலையே

நீ தான்!

பெண்கள் எறும்புகள் போன்று

சுறுசுறுப்பாக சுற்றித் திரிந்து

சிறுசிறு குறும்புகள் புரிந்தாலும்

குணத்தில் கரும்புகள் போன்றவர்களே!

பெண்ணே நீ-தலையில்

அணிவதோ மல்லிப்'பூ'

ஆனால் முகத்தில்

அணிவதோ சிரிப்'பு'

நீ விலைக்கொடுத்து

வாங்குவதோ பொன்நகை

விலையே இல்லாமல்

பிறருக்குக் கொடுப்பதோ

உன்னுடைய புன்னகை!

கஷ்டங்களை உன்னில்

மறைத்து அதிர்ஷ்டங்களை

பிறருக்குக் கொடுக்கும்

தேவதை நீ!

பெண்கள் பலவீனமான

பாலினம் என்றனர்

மூடர்கள் சிலர்;

அந்த மூடர்களையே

தாங்கும் பூமிமாதா

ஒரு பெண்!

பெண்கள் பலவீனமானவர்கள்

அல்ல; பலவிதமானவர்களே!!

தன்னலம் இவர்களுக்கு

கானல்நீர் போன்றது

பொதுநலமே இவர்களுக்கு

நதிநீர் ஆயிற்று

பெண்ணே நீயொரு

மதி, தேய்வதிலல்ல;

பிறரைத் தேற்றுவதிலும்;

விதியை வெல்வதிலுமே!

மகளான நீ

தாயுமாகி, தாயுமானவனாலும்

பாராட்டப்பெற்றவள் நீ!

பல பிம்பங்களைப் பெற்று

நாட்டிற்கே கம்பமாகிறாய்!

எல்லை இல்லா அலைகளைப்

போன்ற உன் பெருமைகள்

மலைகளின் உச்சத்தை அடைய

என் மனமார்ந்த வாழ்த்துக்கள்!!!

Unknown Destiny | Mudavath Priyatham Naik

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Gazing at the parallel tracks,

she reckons something in her life

that they never meet.

Quite low perhaps, they both run

in their own parallel axes,

only the railroad binds them

beneath, though can never be seen

she reckons her bond with someone

so called bond existed virtually,

having a glance through

a hole of world's darkness.

little known to her, she was

bound to those bars of

homemade prison.

little known to her, she cannot

make the tracks meet

running at a low distance parting

a little unknown to the little one

defining life is a void task,

to meet up something undesired.

Is it worthfull calling her life

looking through the lens of

her family or society or is it

a so called life that is undefined!

On My Way Home | Ojasvi Khare

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

On my way

The breeze in the trees

jolted my sight

aroma from the meadows

halted the heady jaunt

The sight was garnished in vision

reminiscing my credulous adolescence

it brought tears that were veiled

Why didn't we take this decision

all this while

On my way

there were glimpses of the summer house

An assemblage for the family members

A corral for the tots to be frolicsome

Now a rented cottage for others to prowl

The days were long with soothing evenings

The nights were haunting with ghoulish tales

The place was always placid when we were there

Not anymore

On my way

I decided to be a bairn again

left my afflictions in the concrete realm

Apt to face the horizon in my nostalgic ground

realising this is the feeling I wanted all long

The house will be lit once again

with the tapestry of new memories

I pledge to never to let go of this ardor

and cherish it forever.

On my way…..

Bhikharin | Mannat Bhargav

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Mostly

seeing and not seeing her

is the same.

This is the crossroad

you might take

a second to pass

if there were not a million people

doing the same

just then.

Before you

her existence lies bare

for you

she barely exists

except

when she stretches her hand

right at you

without expression.

She can make you writhe

if you were to look at her

for a second more.

But you choose

not seeing her–

yet again.

So she must scratch

that hand wresting on your knee

and leave

without expression–

so you'll know

forever

she exists.

The Push That Leads To | Tahaa Johar Ali

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Do it, not just because you owe it to yourself

The closets filled up, skulls all over the shelves

All were created equal, don't mean the round peg's a square

Then what have you indulging in the age of debate of what's not and what's fair

The very attitude that's been a concern today

Will be the fortitude to unite your kingdom and lead the way

बेटियाँ तो खामोशी में जीने को होती है | Sharon Rose Dass

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

1. बेटियाँ तो खामोशी में,

जीने को होती है।

आसमान की तो छोड़ो

जमी भी नसीब नहीं' घेती है ।

2.माँ की -2 कोख में ही लिख दी जाती है, -2

पसंद न पसंद की इनकी कहानी।

या फिर माँ की कोख में खत्म की जाती है,

शुरू घेने से पहले [ इनकी जिंदगानी।] -2

3. छोटे -बड़े -2 भाई-बहनों की ज़रूरत घे पूरी, -2

अपनी हर ख्वाहिश को [ छुपा लेती है वो।] - 2

सिलसिला ये बचपन से अब तक है जारी, -2

बाद में लूँगी का [ बढ़ाना बनाती है वो ।] -3

4 जिन अपनो -2 की खातिर लगा देती है जीवन सारा, -2

कटाक्षों से उनके -2 बन जाता है जीवन घरा । -2

तब अहसास होता है उसे [कोई नहीं है तुम्हारा,] -2

बेटियाँ तो खामोशी में जीने को होती हैं।

A World Within A Wardrobe | Shambhavi Misra

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

On meaningful evenings like these,

Content with rain, sunshine and the balance of both,

My mother comes straight to her wardrobe.

She adjusts her sari, looks for the keys and unlocks

A window to her bones and arteries.

Even when distant, you could sense the snobbery

Of silk ruffled up in hangers, giving way to

Bulgarian roses upsetting French lavender.

In here, she settles her conflicts and riddles her privacy,

Folds her complaints carefully inside her finery,

Calculates names she wants to remember and forget,

And in that drawer, she buries her wish

To freeze time and be a goddess.

On that rack, she places a jar full of rain and

Clouds, and transfers to it the warmth of the nest

Squirrels made outside her window.

And there, to the right, the cadence of

Wind chimes received on first anniversary

Competes with the absence of a gift from

Her father, murdered when she was barely three.

The albums encase the redundancy of

A banker-suitor’s photograph she had

Once been offered the hand of.

Down there, in the locker are wrapped

Letters from an affectionate nephew who

Died young, cohabiting with her forgetfulness

Of exchanging old notes after November 8.

On the wood of the wardrobe, she engraves

Her cancer-survivor-courage into tendrils

Plagiarizing stitches running down her back,

And the glass on the door shapes itself into

Silence, taking after the reflection it most

Sees before itself. On most days, she hums

Old songs into the belly of the wardrobe.

On others, she slams her anger along with its door.

Her touch-it-not attitude made me expect,

As a child of five, a Narnian door on the other side.

And all that secrecy gave birth to the family joke:

The road to a woman’s heart goes through her wardrobe.

Elusive | Kanak Kalra

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

There are magnetic visions of a dark, potent scene

They leave behind indelible marks- longings to see

In my mind is brewing a charcoal-tainted sky

The aerial calls of salt water to be captivated by

Seeping into supple sand, surrounding me

Are the caresses of the chill-infused sea

Deep blue, cold wind composed a melody

Of whistles and worships: a spine-tingling ecstasy

Harmonies layering to thicken the ascension

Deepen the release, prick the point of tension

I swear, they summoned me for a second

Not a moment of disillusionment reckoned

Till it collapsed at the whim of shackles enclosed

Within steam-fogged glass chambers imposed

Only visible to the eye that recalls that very vision

Mine can remember a mere glance lacking precision

By clamour of the clock, time as felt is a sentence

Intangibility a curse, sensibility held in reverence

Reality clawed at my quivering, desperate try

To have resurfaced the power- now flushed dry

of even glimmers of the moments at the beach

The one I dreamt of touching

The one that slipped out of reach

My Friend From Far | Manu Chaturvedi

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

There is a friend from far who I wish to meet,

For I have got no friends around to greet.

Except one, whom I call my mobile phone,

He greets me with morning messages and notifications everyday in the same pleasant tone.

He is also there for me when I just have to stroll around and listens to me patiently,

I also take him for granted sometimes and smash him against the wall when I think about my friend from far, vehemently.

My childhood, they say, was very different, it had some neutral behaviours and emotional voids,

I had some friends and lost some, didn’t feel a lot bad, and mostly enjoyed my room, they probably called me a schizoid.

I ran out of my room, only to realise later I was sitting under a tree,

My emotions are like a see-saw, out in the air on some days and deep in the soil on others, short-lived like my happiness spree.

It then reminds me of my friend from far,

Whose comforting space would perhaps make my emotions , not sinusoidal but a linear bar.

My friend from far, I wish you were here with me,

I promise to feel for you a little more empathetic, a little more comforting, and a little more understanding and a little more me.

May you soon get out of my fictional world, and come close,

We will go out someplace quiet, my friend from far, only you can give me life, a true closure

One that everyone is wishes for, but are a little hesitant to say?

Helen of Heaven | Ashmit Bera

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Night chimed and bells rung,

As the knuckles of a knightly crusader crushed it into smithereens.

Heaven grasped becoming disfigured and unsettling.

Her heavenly charm and hellish smile beguiled the mad-man.

Made madness a want and monstrosity a need.

For, though she felt in love she had chosen death.

Heaven adored her cataclysmic presence and harpers were all so stiffen,

Clouds soaring, swinging amidst the beauty, turned their heads to a sight.

Of a Wondrous, deleterious and murderous being.

Bleak, delicate and fragile she made herself seem, with

daggers in her bosom hidden and paranoia in her lap, lurking.

Posterity could have witnessed a fall or seen her prosper.

For she had found love and chosen death.

Had she been a master of her mind, as she engenders the perfect crime.

To be a humming and, as such suck the flower dry,

Indeed, she did! Erroneously all was venom.

Hence, today the flower blooms, she does not.

Like an enchantress she moved making thousands her martyr,

Made wild by her demonstrative chanting, her spell!

Fertile and insidious, lapidary and filibustering her explanations.

Yes, yes! She was another Helen of Heaven.

Only You Know | Srishti Jain

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Only you know what you deserve,

Only you know what you are capable of,

Only who know your hidden gems,

And only you can decide your destiny.

The purest form of advice always comes from the heart,

And the best guidance is your own intuition,

Follow them and you shall see,

It's you who decides your own destiny.

Do not let each and every word of others,

Affect you in any way, for they are merely,

Empty sounds not meant to be heard.

Always choose your close ones wisely,

Not everyone will see you for the miracle you are,

And not everyone will stand beside you when you require it the most,

For in choosing wrong, it is you will get hurt the most and you who will regret the most.

Make yourself competent enough.

If a day comes when you are not the first choice,

Let not yourself be the second or the last option, for you are meant to be at the top.

Let it not be your ego that makes you that way, but rather self respect that you have earned along the way.

To My Dad | Shriya Saxena

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

How do you undo it,

the hurt you caused

to the people you love?

I ask myself as I look back

at you still smiling at me

explaining to me that it's okay

when I could see the hurt

in your eyes for a second

before turning to love and kindness

How do you endure it,

the pain and grief

that comes along with living?

The question keeps repeating in my head

But never leaves my lips

As I listen to you patiently

explaining the ups and downs of your life

While I still struggle to not cry

after experiencing just a minor inconvenience

How do you love someone

so unconditionally?

I wonder as I look back at my life

Feeling like I've always loved with a condition,

Wanting to be loved back first

before giving all my love

Or loving the wrong people

When the right ones were there all along

I hope one day I get the courage

to ask you all these questions

And you'll answer me with a smile

and say "Come let's make tea"

And I'll follow you to the kitchen

While you explain all your life lessons

to me once again.

Soldier's Bravery | Brijesh Sharma

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Our soldiers make us feel proud,

During war, emotions run loud.

Forget all comforts thy for nation’s sake,

People’s security can never be at stake.

Be it winter, sun or rain,

Your martyrdom can never go in vain.

National safety is your only concern,

Living life with proud, citizens can learn.

Hats off to soldiers for their sacrifice,

Because of you, we enjoy happy life.

Hats off to soldiers for their sacrifice-2.