0.5 Expressions:
To look towards
Read thoughts about hope, happiness and liberation inspired by Preksha Sipani's illustration ~
RECKONING by Bharti Bansal
yellow gaze of the setting sun
reminds me of the days
when the flowers wouldn't droop at the sight of me
i wonder if happiness is all glammed up
in the little corner of my heart
waiting for the train to arrive
and take me farther from this lonely world
glimmering sunflowers
and setting sun
teal blue sky
and violet eyes
Is it too much to ask for beauty?
i wonder if things when left alone
come back together like a lost cat to its home
it's still feral
this need to be happy
but tell me a sober way
where I don't run away
from striking realities
steel countenance of a monotonous life
i am afraid if I wait long enough
i might fade into nothingness
empty cans and unread books
vacant roads leading nowhere
Is it enough if dreams remain distant?
ghost of memories haunting at dusk
and me wondering things if touched become real
everything sleeps to the lullaby of silent sky
the flowers
the birds
the pages of a half-read book
and the girl who wonders about her place in this sinful world
everything eventually comes to an end
the colorful skies
the lonely birdling
the pigmented dreams
the rebellious blue moon
and me, entranced and sad
like the little star falling and fulfilling wishes
WAITING IN SUNSET by Sridevi
she found freedom
in between the lines
by moving the pages
escaped into another world
where she can breathe freely
letting herself out to it
to reflect her soul back
from the mirror globe
being there felt like
being in a warm shell
infinite inside
a tiny world of its own
filled with yellow flowers
grasslands and orange sky
during the sunset
waiting for darkness to arrive
to sit in the carriage of lilies
and move away
HOPE by Yashika Doshi
Just when I'm about to give up on the night
and let my body fall into a state of being that barely resembles sleeping,
I am distracted.
It's an ironic experience:
getting distracted by you,
getting distracted by the idea of you.
This idea that there exists a tomorrow for us
which doesn't come with the fear of instability.
Where the shape of loss didn't come in the form of your outline shaped through a wall
and where the business of postponing love hasn't made us its clients,
and that's why you see
I still end up dreaming of that tomorrow.
Years from now,
when I'll think that I've exhausted all the topics there were to write about
all the memories there were to derive words from,
I'll come back to you.
I'll come back to you like the falling stars find their way back home,
like the waves of the sea curl up towards the shore only to go back again.
I'll come back to you as if there indeed, is a future written for us.
TEMPORARY FIX by Akunthita Gogoi
When I am sad,
I read out to myself.
I pull out unsent letters,
half-written poems, and
wistful stories
from my memory.
I read them like a mother
reads bedtime stories
to her not-so-sleepy child.
About a limping fox getting married
on a sun-kissed rainy day
and a sparrow dicing betel nuts
for the guests.
I chant creased words
locked inside faded envelopes
without a ‘from’ and a ‘to’, as if in a spell.
As hard as I try,
I sound nothing like you.
While you kill flowers by suffocating them
between pages,
I kill my longing.
I’ve heard that the wind carries
one’s woes away if you ask it to.
Where’s the wind today?
I can only feel it in my hair.
I follow my shadow as the sun
beckons me to wait.
Should I?
Maybe if I wait, they won’t let me go.
…I stop and turn.
I’ll let the sadness brew a little longer,
till it all evaporates.
Just today.
A NEW START by Shruti Parwar
As I sat. Grey and lone. I asked myself
"Is this what life is?"
"Is it going to be this way forever?"
​
(Sigh, I close the book)
​
"NO." something inside me replied.
"Not if you want it to be"
"But how?" I asked.
​
Close your eyes…
​
Breathe...
​
Feel the warmth as the sun kisses your cheeks. Listen to the breeze as it tries to sing. Smile as the stray curls tickle your neck. See the beauty of infinite colours. Smell the sweet flowers as they bloom.
​
They come and go and come again.
As long you have them, you can always start anew.
AN EVENING IN THE VALLEY by Arya Jash
She could see the breeze before she felt it. The flowers on the far side of the field parted first, bending their colorful heads, and this movement came closer and closer to her, gently touching her shoulders. It blew past, ruffling the frills of her off-shoulder top, the edges of her beige skirt fluttered, and her hair was blown all over her face. She smiled, and with a shake of her head, threw her hair back into place. Her eyes were closed, enjoying the gentle warmth of the evening sun on her face. The book she was idly flipping through, was firmly bookmarked with her thumb. Ever since she’d come to the valley, she was…lighter. She was so far away from it all, from the city and the preying, hungry eyes which lurked there. There was no one watching her here, only the sun with its benevolent, sheltered gaze. The wind toyed with her, and the flowers of the plain brushed against her hand, a friendly, familiar touch. The scars on her left hand were almost gone, the only trace of an event that was a dull, nearly-forgotten memory. She was so much happier now. Opening her eyes, she watched the setting sun disappear behind the hills, giving out one last moment of light before giving over to the night. She started heading back towards her cottage. A sense of liberation washed over her as she broke into self-indulgent laughter, realizing she’d finally found peace.