It's messed up. But it's poetry.

"While standing on yet another crossroad I realised I had been in a maze all along. Years of stumbling around and I am still not out of it." . _______________ . aranya || she/her || 21 || Also find me at vaaranya.wordpress.com

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This is very much a dead page at this point. I logged in after so long and I cannot believe just how much time has passed. I haven't written a poem in months (and years) and I don't recognise the ones I did write. It's more like I can't recognise the version of me who wrote them. While I am typing all of this, I am driven by this strong urge to post it when this could easily remain a draft or even a journal entry. I don't expect any views on this post and that's fine. I am not rising from any ashes...this is no rebirth. This is just me reminiscing about everything I used to feel so deeply about and wondering where it all went. Is this complacency? Is it nonchalance? I don't want to answer.

I am not older and wiser.

I am just trying to be someone who I think the 21 year old me wanted to become.

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~ aranya

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I feel my body's pain in my palms

The way it eases and clutches

Fist which opens and closes

My palm lines are ridges

Which break apart into chasms

All dark and infinite

Swallowing the throb of my heart.

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~ aranya

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I measure the immeasurable in verses

Weight of words wrought under silences.

The grief which builds inside

Is a pain i don't often wish to describe.

But small pangs or gashes deep

The wounds which don't bleed

Are the wounds which never heal.

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~ aranya

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I can't remember the last time I was on this site. But I am here now and I can almost say that I missed it. This is just to see if my blog is still visible around here. I might post some written works. It's been strange writing these last few months. I hope there are still some who would be interested in reading what I have to say and write.

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aranya

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P.S. - if anyone has any poetry prompts, do drop them in the message box or the ask box!

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The moonlight peeps in through my curtains to fall on the floor

And when I have been staring at the dark for so long

In this little light too I can see the old spots and cracks

I can make out the silhouette of the water bottle

And the books I had stacked on the top of one another

In a hurry to fall asleep.

That was before I knew that tonight too

The sleep's elusive.

I put away my phone screen, close my eyes and count those sheeps

It's too quiet and I detest the sound of my heart beats

So back on my phone I am, paralleling the screen light

To that of the moon lazing at my bedside.

.

aranya

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Through the night

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As I watch the amber sun set

I often search for the pale moon

In those last rays of sunlight

Leaving a shadow world behind.

--

Every evening before I can fall asleep

I count each and every stars that I can see

It keeps my breath from quivering

I know that they will always watch over me

--

As the night slowly thickens

A chilling cold envelopes the world

Settling down like an old enchantment

Growing stronger with every second

--

In the darkest moment, the silences scream

When the stars are gone, I find myself awake

As the world slept, a new day was written

It might be new but it feels the very same

--

From inky blue to a soft vermillion

I watch the sky change colours

Changing like each day

In this world of mine

But in a world I find so foreign.

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~ aranya

[pplaidshirt]

Okay... so, I have been studying French for some time now(like 18 months) and for the semester end assignment our professor asked us to write a poem(extra marks if it rhymes) and I don't think I can do it... I am trying though.

I am not sure about the final poem but I think I will keep updating the English translation here on the blog...

Thoughts??

.

~ aranya

[pplaidshirt]

As I watch the sun when it sets

I often look for the dim moon

In the last rays of sunlight

Which leave me with a world of shadows

..

[pplaidshirt]

Every evening before I fall asleep

I count every star that I can see

It keeps my breath from trembling

I know they'll be watching over me

..

[pplaidshirt]

As the night slowly thickens

A chilling cold envelopes the world

Settling down like an enchantment

Growing stronger with each passing second

..

[pplaidshirt]

In the darkest moment, silence screams

The stars are gone and suddenly I am awake

While the world slept a new day was written

It might be new, but it's the very same

..

[pplaidshirt]

From inky blue to a soft vermillion

I watch the sky as it changes

Changing like the day

In this world of mine

But in a world so very foreign

..

~ aranya

[pplaidshirt]

Okay... so, I have been studying French for some time now(like 18 months) and for the semester end assignment our professor asked us to write a poem(extra marks if it rhymes) and I don't think I can do it... I am trying though.

I am not sure about the final poem but I think I will keep updating the English translation here on the blog...

Thoughts??

.

~ aranya

[pplaidshirt]

RrEePpEeAaTt

When it gets a little too quiet

I scream

To know if I still can

And that the silence hasn't claimed my voice

For its own.

I count the number of times

My heart beats in a minute:

Sixty.

How do I know that?

I tap my feet to the count of my heart beat

And hope for the best.

My feet are bare and so are my arms

The silence makes me feel more naked than I am.

A cold gust of wind makes a squeal.

I take joy in a sound I can't make.

The wind blows from an unknown direction

The walls are high and closed

The lights very bright

I have often thought if this would be the last night.

I am always counting

Beats and taps

Of my heart and feet.

I think I just said this.

Repeat.

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~ aranya

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I have a WordPress blog too, you know. I have had it since 2018 I think. Even before my tumblr account. But I never put any effort to make it grow. Last year I started for a bit but it was a downhill road. Maybe sharing it here would encourage me to be more prompt with it..

Varanya

this is to the smallest rays of sunshine in the darkest of forests

Do tell me what y'all think about it.

.

aranya :)

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Closed Loop

I could never read a story without an ending.

It's too much of a wasteful indulgence

When you never know where the plot is leading.

To give away so much of one's time

Reading about a world without a horizon in sight.

This leads me to believe that I might never write another story

Because the ones which would flow from my pen

Would be the stories which never end.

.

The years that I spent looking for closed plots in every story

Have been full of characters trapped in unbound misery.

The pages that I filled while defying the linearity of life

Trying to resolve the plot devices, trying to end the strife.

But all I had at the end were unresolved character arcs

And half-hearted redemptions which always missed the mark.

I have deliberately tried to ignore

Every bitter truth life has in store.

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Would my stories end after I stop writing them

Would every word wither along with the pages

Or would they continue living somewhere

Deep within someone's heart for a few eternal ages?

.

I would like to end right where I started

Just so I don't have to look back

Into every word that I've written.

But I could never watch them fade

In front of my very own eyes

When the stories I wrote

Were meant to immortalize.

.

What would I do to get my stories to live a life apart?

Maybe I could keep writing, or maybe I'd just never start.

.

~ aranya

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The wrath riots

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Everyone was angry,

Everyone’s a little enraged

We had lost years simmering

In this collective outrage.

The individual voices had long since

Sunk down to hushed whisperings

Lost and forgotten,

To become one with the winds.

We had been far too calm

And far too composed

The time was too high

To keep up the peace and repose.

So, we stood, stood strong

With our heads held high

The war was too real,

To persist in a condensed quiet.

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Under one belief, one motive,

The procession assembles

With one war-cry bringing us all together.

But with time, the agendas dissipate

Though the march keeps moving,

Moving forward.

As the slogans start to die out

A murmured dissent fills the air

Reckless rage ignites further anger

With confused speeches at every corner.

A mob forms as the crowd turn to chaos

What started as a resolution

Is now an open ended riot.

.

Everyone's a lot angrier

Everyone's outright enraged

The original notion's forgotten

Forgotten motto stands betrayed.

Smoked up and pelted, the steps stay unabated

But the uprising isn't anymore

For which it was originally created.

Our blind actions are fury personified

And we have tongues tipped as knives.

Slashing, lashing new wounds as we speak

We further bleed through the cuts we wreak.

We stomp our feet and shout our demands

But the crown doesn't heed to a  discordant stand.

Baseless anarchy justified with sheer hatred

So now they say, that our vision was never clear in its intent.

Aimless and erratic, the populace soon loses its path

What started as a revolution has ended in riot of wrath.

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~ aranya

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The Dig

The courage that it takes to disturb the dust,

To dig through earth and excavate the crust,

Peeling through layers and layers of time.

But how justified is such an excavation,

When grave robbing is still a crime!

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~ aranya

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Blinded

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Open your eyes and watch everything burn

There is no denying when the deed has been done.

How can you stand so unconcerned?

This nonchalance isn't something you've earned.

Look around and search for the bodies which still breathe

It's doubtful if you would find any in these streets.

The air of complete disinterest

You hold around yourself.

How long would this vanity last

When no one has yet learned from the past?

And if you won't do anything

It's better that you close your eyes

And sew them shut

We don't say that it won't hurt.

But at least you could plead innocence

Have something in your defence.

For you were blinded and wouldn't see

The massacre which ended right at your feet.

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~ aranya

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To the love of mine...

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I haven't decided if I am ready to write about love

All I have are mere words I haven't yet learnt to trust.

Is it the buzz in my head or the flutter in my heart?

Do I get to keep it all to myself or do I share the parts?

Chimeric and fleeting, it eludes me and so do the words,

But I know it's something more than just what I have read and heard.

.

Although I'll never know why they say that it's a fire coursing through your viens,

An incredible reverie, keeping you awake at night, invading your dreams.

To have a heart beat at miles per hour with one single touch

To lose oneself in that euphoric rush.

That exalted seventh sky high

Restless breathing and fluttering in-stomach butterflies.

.

From hushed discourses and breathy conversations,

To raucous laughter and spirited declarations.

I feel it taking over everything that I know

Love as I have felt and have come to call my own.

Behind fogged up glasses lie sparkling eyes

Like a grin sneaking in from behind tight lipped smiles

I feel it sneaking up on me in between drawn-out sentences

And let it wash over me, conscious, in control of all my senses.

As it reaches over to me with its eyes open wide

Quiet and obscure, in whispers and sighs

I call it by it's name and in return hear mine.

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~ aranya

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Vandalism

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Run through these olden cities

To find proofs of our existence.

Graffities on public properties

Calligraphies on park benches.

Art works on bridge gates

Posters and spray paints.

Blood red and indigo blue

Bright pink and purple too.

Rainbows and grey skies

All to make ourselves heard

From the noise of every outraged cry.

They wouldn't let us speak out loud

So we wrote love on every wall that we found.

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~ aranya

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Written for @inkstay 's December prompt "we wrote love on every wall because we couldn't say it out loud"

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I wish I was writing. Writing poetry. Taking in words and putting them one after the other in a way which would make me feel something more than this cold. This cold eating away my words before I can pen them down.

The thing is I don't even know what is it I want to write about. What would I write if there was nothing to stop me. With no shortage of words, no frostbiten fingers who knows what would I come up with. I hope it would be something you will want to read at moments when everything around is dark and dismal and my words bring back to you some wisp of the past light.

For months I have spent time thinking what is means to be able to write. I have tried to think what would it be like if one day I just couldn't. But then don't you see all these months all I have really written are imaginary words on imaginary pieces of papers. Don't you see I really can't write anymore.

The smudged ink I once wrote about is a reality. I have torn more sheets than I have ever written on. I have tried to piece them back together and hoped to make some sense out of them. But all I have at the end are dust and ashes. Crumbling pieces of castles I had built so high in the air that once the floor gave way I fell hard enough to break all my bones. Maybe that is why I can't write anymore.

You have seen me fall. Fall from the heights I so proudly stood on. You brought back to me the memories of the times when I could even turn our breaths into poetry. But these days even the sighs seem to be bringing me closer to the ending line.

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~ aranya

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Now this is to my two whole years on tumblr. All my love to everyone who still sticks around.

Is this still a poetry blog? Of this I am not very sure. I might be facing a block but that wouldn't mean that all my words are lost. Will come back soon when those words start to make sense to me.

Loads of thank yous to everyone who has taken time to read my work. All of you amazing people!!!!!

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~ aranya :))