The Twinge

A load of emptiness crushed,
Crashed, stained a silent solitude.
The waves of glee quicked to recede,
And a strange weight of nothingness followed.

Did attempt not to think over, not to obsess,
with thoughts dismayed, depressed.
I implored what those had been,
and still wait for an answer to pass.

It was but a void, yet brimmed with inhibition,
An unending sorrow that lingered to haunt.
And I longed for the reply to it.
And I long for the end to it.

To be crowded was the isolation,
To be isolated was the peace.
Yet, the peace shrieked in pain,
A noise too loud to be heard.

Still persists the toil, the twinge,
to free myself from me,
from my vacant, yet crowded, mind,
from nihility.
         
               -- Shourya Shrivastava

Notes:-

• Twinge- A sharp emotional pain.
• Nihility- non-existence, nothingness.

Until She Dies And Dies Again...

With Reference to  Hyderabad Gang Rape-Murder .

⧫

The first week of strengthened show,

A few verses with heavy blow.

Walls brimming with gloomy shares,

Everyone hurt, everybody cares.

 ⧫

The mobs march with lit candles,

Greater sorrow in media handles.

The ‘royals’ yet in slumber deep,

“Let us let the masses weep.”

 ⧫

A fortnight more, another case will be born.

Who now cares about those dead and gone?

And this one sinks unattended too,

Surprising yet expected through.

⧫

All slack until it happens again,

Until she dies and dies again.

Until those freaks are burned alive,

The wait for justice eternalized.

Lost In A World That Doesn't Exist... (Sonnet)

💠
A figmented thought, A dusky tryst,
A glance upwide and change is swift,
Virtual worlds with masking mist,
Lost in a world that doesn't exist.
💠
The time is bleak, the shore is afarred,
And here I sail with a soul charred.
To guise the void no one sees,
In a lost world,with lost peace.
💠
The blood goes black, The pain is stark,
The wound unheals without a mark,
Lost is glee, the curves are lost,
Shadowed smirks in mythical costs.
💠
Still I stand with a weaponed fist,
To fight this world that doesn't exist.

Depression: Not Just a Loss Of Bliss....

▪️

It is a boulder,

Intrinsically pieced on me, by me.

They thought it's a stone

That I could kick ahead to,

A nothingness I cried waste to.

It was, but, a singularity,

Forcing me to a void abyss.

Not mere unhappiness,

Not just a loss of bliss.

▪️

It was guilt, of I know not what.

It was anxiety, and I was left to rot.

It was isolation, from myself.

It was my despise to self.

It was pure despair.

It wasn't fair.

It was……

▪️

Maybe I need repair...

The Night Is Dark...

Nights are beautiful,
They are dark,
Just like life, a stinging mark.
A bleeding spark, a completed arc, to disembark.

They're painful, but the pain bundled,
with a tingling pleasure, a humour,
That the day hides with its light.
Only to be reversed by a carbon night.

The night is a mystery,
Asks which is needed to be,
A question forever unanswered,
One among the countless each moon.

It is lonely, silent,
Yet an unbearable pitch,
Comes from inside, who knows?
Perceive the shrieks of infernos.

It is cold, chilling,
Blanketed shivers down the spine
It's not the weather,
But flashes of the time together.

The night, the night it is,
A dark beauty, a paining glee,
A silent scream, an iced mystery.

One night, the night shall never cease,
That night'll be the night
Of my peaceful decease.

- By Aditi Shahdadpuri and Shourya Shrivastava

Poem: If In My Dream I Die

To the seashore, stood the silent surf,

The waves were still

As a body dead and nill

Had encountered the depth

To the ocean's breath.

From to the scout lost,

In those universal sands, in the bald lands.

Like a drop in the unceasing sea,

Unified was he to thee.

In the mysterious alcazars,

Of spirits and visions revenant,

Of figments of imagination

And of dark dangers imminent,

I intuited a phantom lingering,

Famished for a soul, it held me fearing.

The witches' place and oils vivid,

To gladiators with builts rigid,

Falling into the abyss void and mystifying,

A collapse to death yet remaining undying.

They say the dreams do come to light.

I hope not for I have meager might.

To brave through storms, I dare not try.

Better if it's in my sleep I cry.

                 If in my dream, I die.

Poem: The Noise Of Silence

The deafening noise of the sea,

A glee yet melancholy.

Like the false friend with a false smile,

Victimizing the chosen juvenile.

Pulling the strings, unknown, in dark,

The blaring silence, paramount guile, paramount vile.

The night black knocks on your door,

So do phantoms drowned in the core.

As tears of past shroud your eyes,

The silences arrive as the lone wolf cries.

 Like the void poem on a poet’s mind,

The exit you could never leave behind,

The words that could but be spoken,

The shrieks, the lies that left you broken,

The silence shall not heal, your wounds, your ordeal.

Unspoken for, but speaks within every man,

Unadorned but still embellished,

As ear-splitting as thunder can.

It’s a hidden art, concealed behind a wrath, a rage,

Else a disgrace, guilt, your morbid dread on stage.

It’s a truthful deceiver in a tranquil presence.

How shall you then, ahead of your last breath, your death,

Shall know how loud is the noise of silence, the very noise of silence.

Poem: All About The Stars

It’s all about the stars,

That starry dark sky.

It's all about the stars,

As novas cry, the nebulae die.

It's all about them,

When they glint starlight.

And then it’s about them,

That aesthetic night flight.

Those stars steer me through the lonely space,

Those which lend in wailing phase.

Those stars that hold until death does apart.

For those stars, I do cross my heart.

Those stars that illuminate the very black with shine

Those stars which create that heaven which is mine.

For these are the stars, I shall carry to my shrine.

Do keep those stars which shine ever so bright,

For if it weren’t for those,

What good is the light?

What good is the night?

Poem: Martyr - The Pulwama Attack

The tricolour wrapped around your might,
And you drift away to your very last night.
The tears that we shed,
Can never match your gallant blood red.
For you dont speak only for sake
You speak to put your life at stake
For the child that is unborn,
And the nation that is now forlorn.
For the eyes that await
That fatalize with thoughts of your fate.
For the family that did wait
Dreaded by images of your lifeless state.
And for every one out there aback
With terror and explosions that make the earth crack

Assure you, we do,
Our souls ignite with your pyre too
With the fire of rage, fury and justice
And against those who use terror to veil cowardice
Assure you, we do,
Never to forget this detonation
That shook the world, shook our holy nation
The nation that can sure give it back
The rightful answer to this hidden attack
And when it does, for it surely will,
They'll know the difference between a coward and a warrior
That they dread still.

Today, when the eye beholds you sleep,
It cannot help but only weep
But as its white pearls roll down the spirit,
The rage intensifies every passing minute.
The pledge to answer back has been taken
Reminisce the earlier times they've been shaken.
The aim is set, the shot is primed,
Their days in the world are meagerly timed.
Shake will the enemies' house where glasses of victory last night chimed.

That hour is near, with red regret they'll be smeared.
They'll know then how we stand tall as a megalith
How we Indians are sages not to be trifled with.

Poem: To Those Who Couldn't Endure

I knew a jolly genial boy,
He wore a mask and pretended joy,
He was deemed a waste,
A worthless brain,
Once stole a chance of solitude,
And no one heard from him again.

There was this endowed girl,
But in the marks race, she couldn't unfurl.
She had the answer, which was a pill,
And from that day she is forever still.
Her mother had lost her pride.
"The numbers gulped her", she cried.

Another boy was a musician.
Yet was forced for the doctor ignition.
With so much trauma, he couldnt cope,
And had his way with the peril rope.

Amongst the other victims was this juvenile,
Was adrift for not self but the gentry too guile,
With societal conjectures she couldn't subsist,
For her name wasnt there on the worthiness "merit list".

Now this social dismay was a loser chagrin
Elephantine bulk, such a bloated skin!
Was pushed around, bullied, tormented, traced,
Slenderness was his only crave.
Wanted to be spindly but wasn't so brave,
And ultimately gestured to an open grave.

One last case about this girl,
Drowning in blues with no saviour,
She was ill, not physically,
And then who did care for the other kind?
She chose the apparent easy way out,
Turned lifeless but her soul did shout.
She slashed across her precious veins.
The scarlet tears had her stained.
_____

So don't condemn us if the future goes wrong,
For its your gift that we'll endure lifelong.
Now one concluding question to my fellows all bright,
Do I end my life if I lose marks slight ?
Is it valued more than my mother's plight?
So what if I am obese?
Am I not entitled unpestered mental peace?
What am I gonna be, will the mob decide?
Or will you let me be my own guide?

Oh I beg you, please don't force me day to night, in every state,
Oh I beg you, please don't force me to chance on my fate!

Poem: Twilight

Foretime, I saw an impenetrable obscurity,

'Twas the glow sliding down,

And the dusk riding on to apparent infinity.

A vision, it was, too mesmeric to forget,

For it was where the sun and the sod met.

The sky wasn't blue, nor did it grow black,

But the horizon with the crimson hue was what took me aback.

There weren't any canopies or billows of a kind,

Natheless, it was a sight you'll not ever find.

The luna was conspicuous,

Fading the sun aside,

Only to rise another day with grandeur and pride.

But as mortals upkeeping the orb,

Bar treasuring this select artistry,

We can do naught but slumber into mystery.