What life awaits the poet dreamer, if change grew within, not lacking? How would I have turned out, if elders stuck not to times older? How would I have turned out, if these very hands belonged to a greater flesh? He observes a vacuum within, if the rote of pleasantly-packed pressures appealed? Where would I be, if abodes followed the benign presence of this traveller? Where would I be, if use gave place and remuneration from the ravaged? Sunsets seems so distant, how much lo

Written by Anugrah and Deekshitha The yellow tree in front of darshini was my only source of happiness. It sang with the noise of crowds and the fluttering of young hearts. It spoke in tongues of many, with words all too familiar. To ears which feared the never ending gears of life, a life of unending happiness. Autumn, leaves, martyred, lost shade, busy roads; Cemented paths break away at thoughts of a blooming rose. Shattered souls coming alive at the sight of sturdy branch

This is a reflective piece I wrote on April 26, 2024 as part of a creative writing course. This piece connects a lot of my works published on this blog. Over this course, I was able to write two poems and a story for my assignments among other minor works. The semester allowed for me to spend a lot of time on these works(which proved little sometimes as well) and so the writing and its style that came through were choices which were mostly intentional. My first piece this sem

It is a cold wind gushing past rays of warm sunshine, Bunch of men driving broken bikes down ragged paths. Trees stare down their hollow souls, Silent hills glare at the valley where No man's network lasts. Hornbills scatter Dandeli landscape. Death glanced at red waters split from source. Drenched, he yelled gastric cries since elbow skin now nowhere exist.

Where the trees tell, they tell stories. Of people dead silent. Where the roads, they curve through and around hills. Where the children, dream in the present and reside in the past. The assembly lines stand long. School seems to go on forever. Towards the end of the line, His tie improper, his face too tired. Letters on paper excite him. Code on a screen excites him. Notes on an instrument excite him. The rush on a motorcycle which takes you ever so closer to death, The step