A Likeness of Anna Freud- Chinmaya Puri

things i think killed my father:

1. keeping dead flowers

2. breaking that one glass

3. using scissors without any use of them

4. the drinking

5. the blood pressure

6. the anger he couldnt stop from falling out his mouth like flies from a carcass

7. not listening when he told me the story of his pictures

8. and his friends

9. and his child

10. saying he was sick

11. listening when he said he was dying

12. listening when he said i am the eldest so i must do what he did and live as he did

13. listening to the instructions on what to do when he dies

14. not if

15. when

16. wishing i was gone

17. wishing he was gone

18. not letting him touch me

19. not letting him hold me

20. not letting him in my life

21. not telling him to come closer when he sat on my bed

22. letting him sit at the edge of my bed

23. letting him sit at the edge of my life

24. letting him sit at the edge of his life

25. why didnt i do something

26. why didnt i scream at him to stay home

27. why did i fall asleep to my own headache to the sound of my heart pumping blood

28. selfish selfish girl

29. why cant you stay up for him

30. why cant you get him the doctor

31. why didnt you get him the help he needed

32. you knew

33. you knew and you did nothing

34. when you know your fate and read those of those around you like the lines on your

own bloodied hands

35. why do you run

36. when you were never meant to be young and unworried why do you try

37. when you knew you were the one who lives

38. why would you let him die trying

39. was he in pain

40. was it the medicines and the alcohol that mixed in his throat like the elixir he prayed

for it to be and so it drowned him in it that way too

41. or was it that he choked in his own vomit from the parties and the life and the booze

42. or did he just choke from the life

43. was it the sadness that killed him

44. did his organs give way like a factory shutting down

45. a home filled to the brim with lives lived not enough photos scattered seats still warm each room turning off its lights on it own

46. could you feel it

47. please tell me you were asleep

48. please tell me it was a kind dream

49. please tell me life was kind to you though i know it wasn’t

50. please tell me i was kind to you though i know i wasnt

51. how long did he lie there as the breath went out like cold fog did it freeze over him or

was there mist

52. there must be from how cold he was

53. god was he cold

54. he was blue he was the arctic he was grief

55. his eyes were closed please tell me he knew where he was leaving for

56. did he try to live for us

57. or did you leave me as this rotting thing you ask me to work and live as again

58. was this some sick lesson or were you just tired

59. please say something

60. im so tired please say something

61. im not meant for this dad please tell me what to do

62. how will i take care of them

63. i know youd say as i have been but

64. im too young

65. i know you were too but you promised

66. you cant leave me with this you promised

67. its not the first one youve broken

68. we were supposed to do so much together

69. you showed me every hope you had and secretly i made them my own

70. and now i am to go on and live the life you were meant to

71. and so i will stay and get my degree

72. and i will raise my brother

73. and i will raise my mother

74. and i will raise myself

75. and i will go to london and stay there

76. and have a love that doesn’t leave

77. and money that doesn’t run out

78. and i will be happy and not question whether i am hated

79. for you, i will be loved

80. its some sick joke that the dream they had progresses by one each generation

81. each firstborn a dreamer taken too soon

82. i will break it

83. the sons in our family run out but i am no son and i will keep us safe

84. i promise you i will keep them safe

85. you told me i am my fathers daughter

86. you and i reflection of each other, every time i raise my voice i hear you cough from

the strain in my throat

87. my vocal chords expand to the size of a casket and no words come out to tell anyone

how angry i am anymore

88. i cant let the venom you spit out die with you but i refuse to sting and so the poison dissolves my own throat

89. in my laugh there are your jokes

90. in the way i talk there is your charm

91. id rather be blank canvas id rather burn this character sketch that looks me in the eye

to mock me as i exist

92. it is less picture more mirror

93. i am you in every way that i can be and i wish i cut could it out of me the same way

you told me to man up and cut the meat we bought myself like a big girl

94. who cares if its dead you respect what it died for, you said

95. dont be afraid, you said

96. you take the knife and you cut it and you say thank you for dying for me

97. i cant forgive or forget or go on or be brave

98. but i will live with the shards you keep shattering me to

99. i will do what i must with what you have left me with

100. and i will make sure you are proud of me 101. i wish you knew how loved you are

102. i hope you liked me 103. i liked you

104. i loved you

105. i love you

106. i miss you

107. please dont leave me this way

108. please never come back to this

109. i hope you can breathe now that you dont have to

110. goodbye. i will keep you alive.

A Caress Of Nature-Our Erstwhile Abode | Shruti Kakkar

The left turn down the mud path led to our heaven on earth,

The pungent smell of molasses…priceless was its worth.

Rolling up our windows yet loving the muddy sight,

Our excitement knew no bounds, our thrill was at its height!

Ancient and rusting, was the gate to the right

closed always, day or night.

The serene and calm lake on the left

I would carry it along if it could be heft.

Narrow pathways lined with eucalyptus,

Our jubilation was such that nothing could afflict us..

Running through the gate painted white and red

Devoured by ecstasy, for the lovely time ahead.

For us, at 10 am the sun used to rise,

Or at 11 or at 12, depending on whenever we open our eyes.

Lazy mornings extending till afternoon,

God knows how days reached from sun to moon.

Pure meals, pure milk, pure life, so rare,

Sleeping and playing and about nothing to care..

Running around in the humungous open courtyards

And climbing the guava trees to eat and content our hearts!

Black maroon Mulberries, tasting sweet and sour

Plucked from a tree, high as a tower.

Exotic fruits and tress to call just our own,

Gone are the days when these gems were grown.

Evening saunters saw us to the lake

Glimpses of hornbills and kingfishers to take.

Fields of sugarcane on either side,

Majestic for us was that bullock cart ride!

Trolleys of tractors, bonnets of our cars,

We have mounted on all, to travel near or far.

Nearby dams for picnics, weekly bazaars close to the tarn,

Or amusing ourselves leisurely, with calves in the barn.

Opposite our farmhouse was a delightful acreage,

Pretty as a picture, its beauty hard to gauge.

Weeds, bushes, crops and trees, all along,

This land was modified at every furlong.

With dusk, appeared the stooping old priest,

Commencing the prayers from the northeast,

Crooning the devotional songs was done by all,

But ringing the bell was a matter of brawl.

Nights arrived with anticipation anew,

Spine-chilling ghost stories would now begin to brew.

Drawing our chairs close to the fireplace,

Insane with excitement, our hearts would race.

Our most magnificent days are now over,

But this is intoxication, where perpetual is the hangover.

We are overcome with nostalgia while travelling down the memory lane,

Realizing it’s all lost engulfs us in pain.

Yes, we will not lay eyes on it ever again,

But why agonize ourselves in vain?

Will we ever forget it?? Oh never!!!

These cherished memories of our precious childhood will fill our hearts forever!!

தாய்மை-Kanimozhi B

தங்கமான நின்

தாமரைக் கரங்கள்,

தூக்கத்தில் என் மீது

தவழும் போது,

இக்கணமே சிலையாகி

இதுவே என் நிலையாகி விடாதோ

என்றெனது தாயுள்ளம் ஏங்குதடி!

இரவும் பகலும் தெரிவதில்லை

உன் அருகில் இருந்தால்!

சுற்றும் பூமி நின்று விடும்

என் கண்ணே உன் அழகைக் கண்டால்!

உன் மழலைச் சிரிப்பில் மழைக் கால சாரல் கண்டேன்!

உன் கொஞ்சல் பேச்சில் இளவெயில் தரும் இதம் உணர்ந்தேன்!

பகலவன் எட்டிப் பார்க்கும் வரை,

உன்னை அருகினிலும்,

உன் நினைவுகளை அறிவினிலும்,

அசை போட்டுக் கொண்டே நகர்த்துவேன்

இந்த இனிய இரவுப் பொழுதை!

Quest for Eternal Glory- Tianna Shethna

Admist the world of illusions

We create our own dilemma

of agony and fantacies

A mind engrossed in worldly desires

, leads to a  heart enslaved in grief

Our mind runs in the haze and gaze of empheral fancies, 

where true conscience and faith is not evoked but rather outpowered by

the delusional fear and avarice that resides within

If this is where you are trapped

I beckon its a Neverending quest ,

As you will end up where you began

The pearls of desires would be met

but the true sapphire of purpose of your life would be uncherished , that would suffice your ego , but not satiate your pure  soul.

குழந்தைப் பருவ நினைவுகள்- Shalini M

ம்ம்ம்....

பெருமூச்சோடு ....என் சாய்வு நாற்காலியில் ...ஒரு உறக்கம் தேட நினைத்தேன்!!

விழி வரை வந்த உறக்கத்திற்கு உள்ளே செல்வதற்குள் அவசரம்...ஓடிவிட்டது !!!!

திடீரென அமைதி...இருள் மூட்ட மேகமாய்..

நினைவுகள் ஜொளிக்க விட்டத்தைப் பார்த்துக் கொண்டே ஒரு நினைவூஞ்சல் பயணம்!!!!!

பல நினைவுகளைக் கடந்து சென்றது என் நினைவுப் பயணம்!!! ஒரு கடல் போல்....

அந்த ஆழ் கடலில் ஒரு மீன் கண்டேன்....

துள்ளிக் குதித்து வலைந்து ஓடும் மீன்...

எதிர்காலத்தைப் பற்றிய கவலை இல்லாத மீன்!!

வெகுளித்தனமாய் பல கேலிகள் செய்த மீன்...

என் கண் முன்னே நிழலாடியது...

பெரிய பொறுப்புகள் இல்லாத ...உறவுகள் பற்றிய கவலைகள் இல்லாத .....கஷ்டங்கள் இல்லாத அந்தக் குழந்தைப் பருவம் ....பார்க்க முடியாத பிஞ்சுப் பருவம்....

இனி நினைத்துப்பார்க்க மட்டுமே....

மீண்டும அந்த மீனைப் பார்க்க ஆசை....

ஒரு புதிய நினைவுகளை சேகரிக்க....

Unbridled mistake - Uma Pc

Even though one's self broader,

Whitman's wits i see no longer,

For the after taste of sunburn mist ,

Makes this life much easier in fits,

why am i still just a mother?,

Why are the chains still locked longer?,

I'm sorry dear mother in law,

If I couldn't cater to your son's needs,

Even i had dreams of becoming a poet,

when that finds no value in the house,

I feel it unfair to be devoted to him,

And I'm no longer a poets shade,

Crowded indeed are the fleshes,

For what walt ones spoke,

In my life finds no shelter,

Thus how am i at stake?,

And how am i the mistake?!

कृष्ण - Harsh Gangwani

कृष्ण –कृष्ण कहते कहते कृष्ण के ही हो गाए

बासुरी का जादू था कुछ ऐसा की उसी में हम खो गए

नाम रंग में रंगे कुछ ऐसे माया सारी भूल गए कृष्ण– कृष्ण कहते कहते कृष्ण के हम हो गाए मुसकान जिसकी मोह ले सबको त्रिलोकनाथ वो बृजवासी है

पल भर में भक्तो की उसने हरली सारी उदासी है सखी द्रोपदी को जिसने नारी का मान था भेट दिया सम्पूर्ण धरातल को जिसने गीता का ज्ञान फिर दान किया राधा नाम में था कुछ ऐसा की मोहन भी मोहित हो गाए कृष्ण –कृष्ण कहते कहते कृष्ण के हम हो गाए

Wisdom- Kanimozhi B

Wisdom is an eternal treasure,

Whose value is boundless to measure!

Prosperity thy home is wisdom,

An open mind is mastery’s sanctum!

Wisdom glazes the crude,

And moulds the inner aptitude,

Guides to act with promptitude,

When there is a need for fortitude!

Life is just like dice,

Rolls in giving smiles and cries,

Wisdom is the key,

To deal all with repartee!

Survival of the fittest, they say,

Humanity alternates white and grey!

Existence throws at us puzzles,

Be wise to swiftly surface from your bubbles!

Wisdom complements your brawn,

To challenge and witness the dawn!

Anything is possible if you are wise,

Glitter and flutter above the skies!

Pluck up the courage to be the exceptional few,

Who dare to dive into the dew!

Wisdom is a gift of perseverance,

Where erudition emanates in concomitance!

Wisdom radiates the soul,

For never-ending progress to your goal!

When The Earth Speaks | Mercyfull Lyngkhoi

I have given you everything you wanted,

Right from a place you called 'Home'.

Fresh air to breathe and water to drink,

The warmth that soothe one's mind.

Yet you destroyed me,

You choked me,

You dirty me,

For your greed

For your pride

You did not hesitate to do so.

Now that I'm speaking

I'm voicing my opinion on you

You rejected me,

You used me again and again

Showing no signs of mercy.

Enough is enough

I'm done giving.

Now, your decision will save the future to come

Whether to change or not to

All these will be laid before you

So,choose your choices wisely.

Love, Bam Kwai ha Dwar U Blei | Marbamonlang Rani

In a small village, where the sun

shone on both sides, and the sky was the only sea we knew,

I gave birth to my first child.

The hearth was warm, the dishes kept piling;

we're running out of mula said Maduh

because the guests kept coming.

Take mine said Meisan as she squatted on the floor instead.

When the waft of pudoh melted

into celebration, the kids drooled.

The milk in the tea was as thick as my joy;

Paieid had just picked a hen for dinner,

and the neighbours

could smell the tungrymbai inhabit their rooms.

When the clan had gathered to name this nameless child,

they named it Love, and Love was beautiful but she was blind.

Love grew up to be kind,

invited unknown guests to supper but love was robbed each time.

When it gave its jaiñkup to the cold, they left her naked.

When she sang, they slit her throat,

when she fed the hungry, she was bitten

and although gifts were given,

they were stolen because love was blind

but that didn't matter because love was kind.

When love had loved well, she was buried.

That day, the rain had drenched somebody's clothes that almost dried,

the sun wasn't shining on either side,

the children stopped playing 'La dikut u said tyllai'

(as if they knew the thread that bound mine had been detached),

the women pasted lime on betel leaves for kwai.

The hen was spared but the pig was slaughtered,

the dog howled

and the cat curled beneath the bed where Love was rested.

I sat on the floor mourning until my eyes swelled.

They fed me pumpkin and plain rice, following young girls

who'd been offering red tea for the hundredth time.

For three days and three nights the doors were left open

for Love's soul to fly to heaven,

but when the soot from the rice-pots had been cleaned

and the curtains washed,

when service was over and the coffin had been laid, even then,

Grief stayed.

Eyes of a Narcissist | Alice Gari

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

Staring the golden centre of the ceiling fan, I ought to see my reflection.

Too obsessed of what exactly is my projection, and that is my pure dedication.

I see through conversations and find me,

Each detail in the reflection shall adore me,

Roads full of hurdles attention crisis.

Aesthetic visions, pretty people with pretty prices.

Holding the dark yesterday where I was overlooked,

To connect with them I saw nothing and stood.

Sweet and small talks accompanied with regards are my currency.

I'm not pleasing your presence till you show me your loyalty.

Well, ironically my loyalty belongs with people who don't comment on my wrongs.

Somedays I drown in sorrow making lakes and ponds.

My therapy is scrolling with my mouth shut and eyes wet.

My life now is what others live and sweat.

Still all my flaws I see in everyone but not me.

Pushing myself up will eventually push others down the tree.

Your generalising eyes would see me as insane,

And i purely see this currency exchange as a game.

Staring at my phone I see the success when it vibrates non stop.

Once I longed to be loved by some and never wished for swap.

Belive me my eyes are full and heart is good.

I just started admiring me, because no one ever stood.

The Night I Thought I Would Die | Ahladita Kumar

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

The night I thought I would die

After the nightmare that choked me like a deja vu

A nightmare I had lived before

Lived once physically and a million times in my head

Nothing felt worth saving me from dying

Just a surge of anxiety attack up from my brain to my ends

The noises getting louder and louder beating against my skull

My body engulfing in pain

Undesirable thoughts making a room in my mind

My peace sinking in the ocean of unconscious overthinking

And sleep was not kind enough to visit my home

Maybe because I didn’t change the address on my sleep note

That summer night I was convinced I was going to die

The whole body consumed in pain

Constant heart palpitations and sweat in my veins

Shaking hands and pulsating nerves

Cold feet and sweaty palms

Red face and ears of fire

Migraines and unlimited tears

Chapped lips and bleeding nose

Breathless gasps and blurred visions

Voiceless throat and blue fingernails

Loneliness and the traumatic memories

That summer night I was convinced I was going to die

Having no one to call

and the ones I had

were too precious to disturb at that hour

But the universe finds the way to keep you

Air finally filled my lungs

And sleep showed mercy to my dreams

Love in the form of birds and kindness in the form of my friends

showed up at my window.

Has Anyone Seen | Neeshant Srivastava

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

Has anyone seen this garden of twilight,

Soft beams of light illuminating the green,

Like He’s strolling peacefully in this abode,

A fitting end to the bright scream,

When the mighty owl was blinded and mistaken,

And lost as it accidently hopped out of its home,

Elements of heaven and a chaotic world,

Slamming cars and sirens of catastrophe,

The eyes have sunk too low for a heavenly walk,

The flowers do not speak of colours,

The leaves have hidden the green and abated,

With plasters of dust and trees have sunk,

There is a world far away in Mars,

And the human race has a feather to its cap,

Man in his quest for beauty,

Bag packing to those hills and valleys of green,

Can only flatten the beauty to a city of smoke,

For it’s here right now in this silent corner,

A soft meadow of twilight and sleeping green,

A small breath in endless years of existence,

When the journey so far comes to an end,

As we sail away from the constant churn,

Of life and the land of trauma.

Untitled | Harsha Gupta

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

Within the darkness of the vast expanding universe somewhere I reside,

Miniscule I am when compared to the ever expanding space.

I think about the things I want to do,

Of what I could be.

Wrapped around the chains of the institution we call society,

That teaches us how to live with propriety?

Confused, unconvinced, anxious and restless,

I put on my make-up while I feel helpless.

Walked about the crowded street,

And Different Faces I did greet.

Phone rings and to a party I was invited,

Within me the desire to please ignited.

The best possible face I painted,

A new me for a new gathering I created.

My interests, thoughts, and ideologies were different,

But to be just another sheep in the flock was my interest.

Interest then conflicted with my beliefs,

Realizing I was a black sheep, I grieved.

In front of a mirror I stood,

Removed the mask to see what I once could.

It was like a bedlam inside my head,

"How does it feel to lose it all?" The Fallen Angels said.

Hastily I looked through it all to find the 'Right face'.

Distraught I was upon this fall from grace.

"Is it all worth it? Raising a Pandemonium in my head for all this? " I wondered.

Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, with my head on my knees, about these questions I pondered.

An epiphany of sorts I had,

"Being different isn't all that bad".

Why should one mould oneself just to fit in?

Why should one walk along the path and follow the beliefs embossed within?

Why can't one find the courage to stand out?

To accept that one is different; isn't that all 'this is your life' about?

Why are we so afraid to accept our individuality?

Are we just meant to be living with the herd mentality?

A knock on the door I heard,

"7 o'clock at the club" Told me a little bird.

Overflowing with happiness I dolled-up,

All my thoughts I wound up.

"Thinking can really mess up your head", I said to myself.

I got out the door after putting a book back on the bookshelf.

Within the darkness of the vast expanding universe somewhere I reside,

Miniscule I am when compared to the ever expanding space.

(not a) trivial tragedy | Tanya Goyal

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

bear with me,

i'm not quite there yet,

still blowing warm breath on my triple coated fingernails,

adjusting gears to shift lanes on the short-tempered road,

trifling through the cassettes to run into the one

that smells like sweet-toothed mint from back home,

and a l m o s t is too simple a word

to describe this impatient yearning of

finding familiarity in this place that

is not

so kind.

there is an emotion that is all-consuming

lately, it has

burrowed itself a tiny tunnel underneath

the third layer of my skin

and languishes there in pretentious ridicule,

a constant reminder of

the sentences that tripped on the tip of my tongue

and took away with them the dreams they were sheltering,

the camera reels I never hoarded

if i ever forgot the boisterous bounce in our steps

in the uptight corridors,

the things I thought I would be but which now

merely exist as witless imaginations in a dust-abandoned corner

and r e g r e t is too small a word

to narrate this desperate, bittersweet reverie that has

dropped a heavy anchor inside me

of what could've been and what I didn't do, the streets

are much too thronged to hear the final reverberating thud of

the monstrosity.

and i'll forever be a force on the verge of not being a trivial tragedy,

looking day after day

after day

after day

to see if i've painted the dusk and dawn

doing enough of something that encompasses me with the madness

and sensibility of loved things,

if i've felt the soft touch of humans and air and penguins

existing here with me on this tiny lump of beautiful rock

so insignificant in the vastness of space and time, so home to

the only beings i will ever know and meet,

if i've abandoned enough of myself to sit with other people's

creations, peeked through the cloth a little at their souls

and their magnificent unlikeness,

and it isn't about not doing enough of everything every day,

my fingers have spaces between them that need to be filled with

another's.

i'd arrive at the end of my existence knowing that i've

belonged with something and someone, been so loved

like the rain loves the earth - inevitably, and loved so in return that

there was no space for anything else in the heart,

our eyes have met and stayed

and i have understood

everything

and been unmade,

that i've been something other than a trivial tragedy for a while.

Perfume | Anahita Khangwal

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

It was in my sundry yesteryears,

That I'd often catch a dainty whiff,

Of my mother's perfume.

So divinely worn,

It would create a brilliant nimbus around her.

However, as flew time, so did it's scent,

Weakening steadily as it got caught,

In faraway nooks and elusive crannies,

Until it was nothing but a distant, bittersweet memory,

Standing on the bourne of being forgotten.

But, as I was walking down the street today,

In my usual monotony,

It was briefly, only in passing,

That I'd smelled it's heady scent.

Yet everything around me morphed into a murky, reminiscent spectacle of my past.

Old, sweet, bitter memories,

Quickly resurfacing,

Some better buried, some maudlin,

Some wistful, some hopeful.

Of people who'd died, of people who'd lived,

All a reminder of what would never come again.

And then, it was gone all too quickly,

Prompting me to resume my monotonous journey.

Love Amidst Nature's Beauty | Neetika Agarwal

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

If the mountains could speak, they would surely say that my love for you is higher than them,

If the sea could speak, it would surely say that my love for you is deeper than it,

If the sky could whisper, it would surely agree that my love for you is more vast than it,

If the grass could get a chance to say something to you, it would surely decline that my love for you isn't soft as her, it's very hard,

If the rain had to measure my love, it would have surely kept falling till Doom's Day,

If the soil could speak, it would surely say that my love for you is more fertile than her, because I can plant in myself a hundred seeds of your love and care and give way to green plants representing our sweet bonding,

Nature has so many elements, only if each one of them could speak, you would have surely known that I see all of my nature's beauty in you.