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

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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Poetry

Picture perfect : Poem

My glowing skin
Hides many pain patches
Carefully concealed

I’ve diminished my bruises
with a deft makeup brush

My delicate stride
Protects boils under my feet

Ringing slaps
silent under my
Silver anklets

Ridges of injustice
Remain unmasked
Under my trendy skirts

Marks of madness
Missed by neon fashions

Shivers zipped safe under
Extra large sweaters

Evidence of blue blows
Lurk under my fingernails

My red handshakes
Hide bloody burns
within intersecting palm lines

Alien thumb prints
Adorned by
Awkwardly angled bangles

The pull of power
Pinned within
Pretty rubber bands

The creases of my cuts
Spring out in my curls
Subtle resilience against soft hits

Feverish injuries
Are folded under my tongue

Salty tears stopped under contact lenses
Pink bruises pinioned under
Porcelain hugs

Muted shrieks surrender
to the rhythms of a cruel clock

My full smiles
Compensate for
Crooked teeth

The band-aid strip
Suckles my swollen wound
Silencing protest
Offering false comfort
Will you please rip it off

So I can scream

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

My posting has been a little sporadic due to technological and medical issues and may continue to be until the end of June. Thank you for understanding. 

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Poetry

Search: Poem

I dream every night

a recurring theme of search

I run wildly across graveyards

call out constantly for no one

sit waiting by the tracks

long after trains have gone

chase after silhouettes

always within arm’s reach

never within arm’s grasp

ransack rooms

tumble clink pop

finding everything

finding nothing

a passenger on

parapets and planks

carried to every destination

but the one

awaiting my arrival

I know not

why where when what

remain questions many

answers many more

As I know not

my purpose post -pursuit

I want the search to go on

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

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Myriad Musings

Blogging tips I didn’t follow (1k follows)

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Hello, readers. I never thought I’d do a post that has 1k follows in its title. Not only because that is a milestone that wasn’t even on my radar when I started, but also because I think it’s tacky. But, here we are.

I want to take this opportunity to give a shoutout to all my followers, my dearest readers and the generous souls who leave comments that make my day. Thanks a million for the smiles.

I also realised that, being a private person, my followers don’t know me on a personal level, even after a hundred posts. So, through this post, I’m going to touch upon my blogging journey.

Why blog?

1. I used to crucify my writing (to the point where I’ve thrown many notebooks in the trash once I filled them up) and I wanted to commit to putting it out there

2. I wanted to become a versatile writer, in terms of exploring myriad themes, styles, literary devices and genres. I thought actively engaging with other phenomenal bloggers would be a great step in this direction

3. I ardently desired to make people think and feel

Blogging tips I didn’t follow:

I mention these, not to discredit these tips, but merely to encourage you to do things your own way. There are no ‘rules’ you should feel pressured to follow, that is not in alignment with your personality and your blogging aims.

1. Find a niche

Since my focus is on expanding my comfort zone, I didn’t want to restrict myself. I’ve had the kindest readers who’ve been receptive to poems, terribly tiny tales, listicles, short prose etc.

2. Social media is the key

Since I’m a millennial who is social media free, I’ve never had those platforms for blog promotion and I didn’t deem it necessary to create them. This may change in the future.

3. Exchange is essential

There are many readers who follow me without ‘liking‘ a single post ( it confuses me till date). Perhaps, they expect a follow-for-follow. I read most of the posts in my followed sites feed and hence don’t partake in this shallow exchange.

4. Post daily 

I certainly posted daily in the age of Daily Prompts. But, it’s wise to let your post breathe for a while so that more people across the world get an opportunity to see it. With more likes, you’ve a better chance at appearing on the reader’s feed and gaining visibility.

5. Stats is your guiding light

For the longest time, I hadn’t even noticed the stats section. I’m still tech handicapped that way. Irrespective, I’ll never tailor my posts solely based on likes. I blog for my satisfaction and let my authentic self through. Even if all the numbers vanished tomorrow, say due to a technical default, I’ll still keep writing as I’ve been since I was four (mostly about cats on mats that play with bats).

I do understand the positive side of these tips (so kindly refrain from pointing them out in the comments). My only goal here is to assert that there is no definitive rulebook for success in this platform. Instead of stressing over Dos and donts, I want to empower you to do things that best serve your interests.

My warmest thanks, again, to everyone who’s been a part of my journey.

The WordPress community has filled my heart with its generous and unflinching support. It’s truly gratifying to hear your delightful, intellectually stimulating and encouraging views. I salute every blogger here and every artist in the world.

You don’t need to be an artist to breathe life into art. We can keep all the art around us alive by merely being aware of it. Thank you!

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

 

 

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Myriad Musings

Meeting monsters

 

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I seem to have an inexplicable desire for pain.

More than curiosity. More than fascination. A strange craving, almost.

The way you’d try your hand at a spicier cuisine or experiment with a new hobby, to test your limits.

Perhaps, it’s my ardent interest in Psychology (one of my majors).

Maybe it stems from my belief that I am truly alive when I experience the A-Z of emotions in palpable intensities.

Or is the source subconscious guilt which makes pain feel right, even relieving?

I play with pain, the way a child blows air into balloons until the loud pop!

I am my own rubber band. I fiddle, pull and observe to see how far I can stretch, until the snap.

The breaking point is yet to be found.

Maybe, the reward is in that after feeling gutted, tortured, confused, I can surface up and claim, “That wasn’t so bad.”

We treat certain parts of ourselves as inner graveyards, with unimaginable ghosts.

Meant for paying an occasional, wary visit.

It is freeing to know that the darkness in me is tame in comparison to the illusory demons I suspect I will discover.

Maybe it’s time to invite the monsters under the bed to lay next to us and start a conversation.

You never know. You might just sleep better at night.

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

 

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