Young Writers Society

15. flights of fancy



some paint a picture of hopeless
chatter, from one apathetic soul
to another.
places and spaces are distant
specks of light
and darkness -
cockroaches reaching for the crevices
most of you are tied,
chords encircling your legs
to the columns behind you
(or in front, really)
when you could be
cross legged, tracing patterns
on the dirty carpets with your lazy eyes.
People feet tell stories
of grandeur and opression
of eloquence and pragmatism-
shuffling in Louboutins and
flip flops from the street shops.
Watch how bernoulli's ideas
take flight and the way
we encroach upon every space
inhiabitable
a desire to move and taste the
foreign scents
and accents roll of our tongues.

the earth does curve,
and quite beautifully blue.

16




Falling into the chaotic fractals
an abyss of pretty patterns
and magical whiffs
creating a sparkly air
about your hallowed aura.
You look for the tangerine trees
only to find the blood moon
eclipses of the past experiences.

The dreams you see
a vice-grip across your mind -
subconscious subversions.

17.



​
the jhumkis danced in the rain
every hanging bead
clinging on to a drop
and letting it free, in a
dance - a frenzied waltz.
their first rain away
with her
they glimmered gold, magnified
by the raindrops.

Summer's first rain;
you could see her
hair swinging wildly
to the sounds of
dhol-drums
only she could hear.

she was in two places,
tasting the rain
and an empty chai-tumbler tucked away.

18.




there is a story to be told
of all the days you nod and smile -
everything is perfect
echoing throughempty chambers
of your heart
(you have four to fill)
beating against the fractions of time
when colours and words are a tornado
storming into you -
wounds as large as Jupiter's eye,
largely unseen by the world's
collective smiles.

there is a story, in you -
allow me to fabricate doors
with words and sounds -
a new journey for your heart
(aches).

19.



it begins with sound of leaves
of stories of colourful days
in tongues unknown.
a spring in your step
noticing every crack filled with moss
spreading into the heart's veins.

trees to talk to
people to hug
there's a sight to behold in every mile.
and when there's no where to go
or no way to go,
all it takes is fairy dust
to satiate wanderlust.

20.



i want to
step into your footprints before
the waves come down and wash away
these memories of
wiggling in the sand making toes disappear
and
finding seashells to make up
seashell-people.

i want to
rides the waves , you next to me
currents connecting -
paddling to stay afloat;
inhaling the sea salt foam, let's
dive in and search for closed seashells
homes
for seashell-people.

21. Thankful




Chemical codes that somehow
fold into shapes, your eyes cannot recognize.
receptors, and targets, highly specfic
fit like lover's paradise.
nature plays telephone,
Your gee is my ayy
and all shape and form
(inevitably, function)
is an incomprehensible inkblot
for us to delve into the knots
holding codes together,
(holding hands.)

Diseases could be named after you
(or me);
stories of hours staring at chemical codes
playing with viruses,
racing paper planes,
pipetting coffee through our veins
While working on the letters after our names --

Stories
(hidden behind glories of cure,
tales of deceit going up
like stock rates of big pharma,)
need telling.