Poetry

Painting: Poem

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An art brush drips inside of me

Throbbing, kicking wildly

Lettering a tragicomedy-

Brazen strokes vibrant of

ecstasy, sorrow and madness

bleeding in –

Red Green Blue

throw themselves

against the receptive canvas

I live loudly

My single redeeming attribute

I hold nothing back-

When you ask to witness

the spells of a fiery sketch

Don’t be bewildered

if I confess –

All my paintings

breathe

inside of me

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

An ode to Rain: Poem

Image result for rain woman

Blessed rain,
I sense you as
your throbs become
the marching band
to my writing

My letters come to
a standstill
for my pen is perennial
but you are the muse

Rain,
you versatile liquid,
A farmer’s prayer,
the golden harvest
A child’s answer,
the school holiday

I look up
from my study desk
you turn time for me
I recall our past
from paper boat contests
to swaying to your
alluring whistle

When you drench my soul
my stains are purged
I’m fresh white paper
waiting to be written in
once again

I see passersby
shooting umbrella shields
shunning your drizzle pecks
scuttling for shelter
away from You,
Life bringer

Worry not, old friend
My door is unlatched
my racing feet
splash puddles
eager to welcome you
I gaze upwards fondly
Your recognition’s instant
you gather pace

In a longing embrace
I open my arms wide
Diamond droplets
spill into my soul

Update: I just got notified that this was my hundredth post. I’m happy beyond words to thank everyone for the unbelievable support and for taking the time to read, like, comment and/or follow. The WordPress community has been beyond kind to me and I didn’t think I’d get here when I started. I sincerely respect and salute every blogger here, for consciously breathing life into art. Thank you!

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

 

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Poetry

A doll’s world: Poem

I am a doll
I’m full of life

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I’m arranged on racks
during navratri*
A symbol of traditions
A narrator of culture

 

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I’m used as a puppet
The face of another’s tale
Man, animal or myth
A tool to counsel,
educate or entertain

 

Image result for voodoo doll

I’m used for voodoo
Pins poke into my body
meant to unmake witches
I bear the curser’s wrath,
the pain of the cursed

 

child doll.jpg

I feel the safest
in a child’s hand
A metaphor for dreams
A voice to worldviews
Companion, confidante
Cared for, precious

But, most of all,
I love children for
recognising that
I’m a person,
not a prop.

*Navratri (Sankskrit) translates to nine nights and is an annual Indian festival.
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

 

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Poetry

Punctuate me: Poem

To think I’d been
living punctuation-free!

Like a comma,
you reminded me that
I need to break but
there’s more to the story

Like an exclamation point,
you stood next to me
at gasp-inducing moments

Like a semi-colon,
you added a dramatic pause
making me expectant
of what’s to come

Like a colon,
you foreshadowed my entry
into lists unknown

Like a question mark,
you challenged me
to look for answers

Like a hyphen,
you entwined me with
other free spirits

Like a bracket,
you closed certain
chapters for good

Like an apostrophe,
you balanced my omissions

Like quotation marks,
you highlighted my
shining moments

Like an ellipsis,
you always left behind
a trail of suspense

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

Childhood: Poem

Image result for childhood images

 

Blowing soap baubles

Making shadows partners

for pretend fun

Whipping my hair

to the wind’s rhythm

Whether its night or day

as long as its time for play

Giggling at voiceless jokes

Whispering secrets to

imaginary friends

Building utensil mansions

cardboard palaces

Tracing marker routes

to a treasure island

Only one world exists

your own

every resident a friend

Living a fairy tale

What a privilege it is

to be a child

in an adult’s world

Dedicated to the child in every adult 

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Poetry

Thief: Poem

You stole my Eros*
my passion to dabble
explore and create
as you caged my interest

You stole my support system
manipulating words
misrepresenting contexts
so I’m all yours

You stole my leisure
I danced consciously
giggled softly, never
belted tunes in the shower

You stole my time
editing my yesterdays
eroding todays
erasing happy tomorrows

I tried only
to steal your soul
But I couldn’t find
the thievery in me

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

*Eros, according to Freudian psychology, is the life force that constitutes the will to live and instinctual impulses that lead to productivity. Its counterpart is Thanatos, the death instinct.

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