Poetry

Song: Poem

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Your laughter
A Beethoven’s symphony

Thunder of anger
A siren call

When your face falls
A dirge drones on

Quivers of your soul
An animal’s cry for help

Swaying footsteps
A bird’s morn song

Your melodic whistle
A soothing lullaby

Flowing stream of words
The tune to my heartbeat

Your silly mood swings
The switch between
melody and cacophony

Whatever the sound
When you are the source
It’s all music to my ears
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

Universe: Poem

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The universe is in me
As much as
I’m in the universe

I stroll by the ocean
Deep blue waves of peace
Wade into my conscious

I kneel before the sun in prayer
Streaks of radiance
Shine into my being

I bask under a canopy’s warmth
Evergreen droplets of purity
Swim into my senses

I brave the mighty mountain
Rocks of resilience
Cut through my veins

I navigate the dark forest
Leaves of serenity
Creep into my soul

I look up at the vast sky before sleep
Clouds of oneness
Cuddle my skin

The universe is in me
As much as
I’m in the universe
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

Grey: Poem

Sidlak#3
Sidlak: A five line poem composed of 3-5-7-9 syllables and the last line (without restrictions on syllables) indicates a colour that sums up the authors’ feelings and the spirit of the poem.

 

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The moon’s welts

reflect a beaten

broken world of hapless sins

Yet there’s hope- hints of white glint amidst

the grey globe of today

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

Poetry: Poem

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When I see you
I read poetry

When I hear you
I feel poetry

When I touch you
I drink poetry

When I hold you
I inhale poetry

As we talk
we trade poetry

As we walk
we breathe poetry

As we cook
we mesh poetry

As we negotiate
we barter poetry

As we fight
we burn poetry

As we whisper
we leak poetry

As we sleep
we rest poetry

As we sway
we dance poetry

As we laugh
we sing poetry

As we cry
we rain poetry

As we kiss
we taste poetry

As we love
we write poetry

When I’m with you
I live poetry
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

Spillage: Poem

I see my life spread out on the floor

the stench of unclean memories floods the space

glass edges left ajar stare at me jarringly

spiked edges of a broken past

ghostly paints splash squirming violently

walls disconcerted by eerie noises

bundles of loss are tied and neatly stacked

fear hate worry run amuck in contest

cotton balls of bad choices float away

balloons of pain fleeing from me

as I sigh heavily a breath of relief

I am nothing

I can fill the floor all over again

wiser and better choices this time

Sometimes, spillage is good

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Myriad Musings

Who are you today?

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Who are you today?

I often wonder

Have you geared up to tackle blunt realities or are you still clouded by conspiracy theories?

Are you still a cosy armchair expert or are you jumping into the field and getting your hands dirty?

Is your full-time job what you’d like to do in leisure? Perhaps, you published the comics, that the seven-year-old you unleashed on walls and chart paper alike.

If genetics wins the Nature vs Nurture debate, then perhaps you’ve found your safe haven in education. I bet you’re raising hell by inspiring your students to rebel.

I hope you’ve embraced your awkward self and still happily flail on the dance floor, fumble song lyrics and stay wary of glass.

I pray you still get lost, every now and then, and go through a memorable adventure to find your way back. Who knows? Maybe those days are long gone and you’ve turned into a visuospatial whiz now.

Do you still talk in your sleep, rush to the sports section in the newspaper and like your coffee strong?

Is your sense of smell still your superpower? I can imagine your distasteful glance when you sniff out spoilt milk in the kitchen, all the way from the terrace.

Does your mind still get its flipflops done by solving puzzles on the commute to work? I picture you multitasking, with your enthusiastic ambidexterity.

I can’t see a bumbling play pal strapping on the boots of parenthood, but enough time has passed for you to build a sweet home and a sweeter family.

I wonder if you’re saving the world, one brick at a time like you always told me you would. You tend to spring into action when it comes to charity.

I know you mastered many a foreign tongue to visit alien lands across the globe. Are you happily experiencing a different city every day? Perhaps, that’s why you’ve never returned home.

Can you imagine, in the world where everyone seems to know everyone, we managed to lose touch and stay lost?

Well, I found the suspense we were looking for in the detective novels we sprinted across. I’ve replaced them with my wondering about you, which is a consistent source of thrill.

At the end of my guessing games, I always come to the same conclusion:

No matter who you are today, I wish you were around.

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

Goals: To introduce a third person to the reader through an ambiguous, possibly unstable author.

Offer the reader enough space to determine what to believe and what not to, so as to build a caricature of the third party, who may entirely be a figment of the author’s imagination.

To instil a sense of nostalgia, melancholy and loss where ‘loss’ could mean a parting of ways or a more permanent separation, like death.

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