LitSoc Creative Writing (Solo) for the academic year 2015-16 was held in the July-Dec semester. In the second part of this two-article series, T5E presents all the top five winning entries under the Poetry category.
First position
Prompt : “This is how you do it: You sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.”
Author: Namita Krishnamurthy, HS12H050, Tunga (Sharav Extension)
Silence in the Form of Doors and Poems
one more night in the rain
and silence is like
a poem: we think its only coming
when its already there
cooing
in the moment between nothing and everything
this
that comes and goes
through the broken window
with a sound of dancing paper
that changes the poet into a door
hinged to the light
like a word that is already written
Second position
Prompt : “This is how you do it: You sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.”
Author: Sreenidhi Krishnan, HS11H041, Tunga Hostel
Pain
He said, “Pick up a grain of sand today.
May be a handful. Clench. Feel it.
Do not let it slither or slide.
Let it sequin your palm.
Contain it. Coarse; let it burn you.
Let your soul bleed into it.
Let it cake in with your dreams shed.
Let it dry like a mud wall.
It will crack, it will crumble; into a thousand shards.
Shards that will mirror your parched innards.
Still have a handful? Unclench. Free it.
Let it slither and slide.
And as you let go, watch it.
Washing away your broken pride.
Become a blank slate and bare your heart.
Do not hide!”
But he isn’t here to see it.
He can’t see me play with the sand.
He doesn’t see me bleed. He doesn’t see the pain.
Do you?
Do you hear the downpour?
It slams against the roof.
It slams down on the patio.
It slams on my back.
Do you smell the earth?
A whiff of moulding gold.
A snare of wet delight.
A breath of fresh surprise.
Do you feel my pain?
It is like the battered earth after a downpour.
It is like the beaten soil after a rain.
It is like the wet pleasures of a love strained.
I revel in this pain.
They ask, “How do you do it?”
It’s easy really. Just write on your blank self.
Write. On what the sand, the rain, the earth left behind.
Etch the pain on your tabula rasa.
Lift a chisel; pick up a paper; sit at a keyboard; and write.
One word after another until your pain drips off the edges.
He smiles.
Third position:
Prompt : “You wake up as a human lie-detector and find out that everything your best-friend told you was a lie including his/her name.”
Author: Swarup Potta, ME13B147, Narmada
Alive After Death
This morning, the cuckoos and the cocks didn’t flirt like usual
Perhaps our awakening, to the truth of lies was mutual.
Out over the bay, the leaves dripped of dew drops-
Their flow accentuated by the morning frost.
Clear globs of water mystically slipped over the loving leaves,
Clean faith in in your alluring being- washed away with stench and reek.
I had once bathed in the magma
Of the volcano you pretended to be.
Like the faint foam of winding clouds,
Drenched in the heat of a stellar sea.
In the orange sands of the desert beat,
Like horses running with padded feet,
I ran with you into the uncertain sea-
Only to unearth your enticing deceit.
I toothed your parfait; I toothed your ravioli,
I swam in your rivers of Lapis Lazuli,
Floating high in your pensive waters,
I drowned- decoyed by your defiant plotters.
I rooted my Bonsai in your fertile soil,
Adorned my fort with your feathers and foil-
Never to believe that your dainty lips,
Would devour me into a lethal apocalypse.
You vandalised my forts
And you killed my unicorn,
You corroded my wings
With your incessant storm.
In this vast expanse of space and stars,
I’m filled with dust and full with scars.
Now of us, all that’s valence-
Is the disfigured relic
Of besmirched coalescence
My soul’s in remorse,
And my heart – contrite.
I plead you to leave
From my dreams tonight.
Fly away like a dandelion
Or just disperse like the breeze!
Oh no! What have I said?
Don’t vanish, I don’t want you to cease!
Fourth Position:
Prompt: “This is how you do it: You sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.”
Author: Debayan Chaudhury, BE14B035, Godavari
As I sit down at my desk to start,
Waiting for inspiration to strike
All I manage is to appreciate this sublime form of art
For the first time, a poem I have decided to write.
To write poetry pleasing to the heart and soul,
A statement filled with ambition
Not really sure if I can fulfill that goal
When I made that grandiose proclamation?
But the poem I’ve yet to state
Amidst poems regarding cookies, teenage pregnancies, war and hate
I’ve chosen something more humble to put on your plate
And I’ve resigned myself to my fate.
My first memory of her was when I was a small child
I’d crawl towards her frantically on my scratched up knees
The sight of her was enough to drive me wild
And put my mind at ease.
A few years down the line, she took up a different role
That of a mentor; collected and calm
I was amazed by her incredible skill in damage control
She seemed to have a solution for everything in her palm.
Back then, I resented that her profession as a doctor kept us apart
Of her dedication and sincerity, I did not have a clue
Thankfully, understanding maturity did impart
My respect for her exponentially grew.
Soon, puberty hit me like a speeding bus
Hair grew, voice broke, alterations large and small
To the drastic changes in my body, my mind tried to adjust
She was there, to guide me through it all.
In my late teens, the magic began to fade
She became a dictator, strict and unyielding
My life began to feel like one big charade
I gradually lost my fear of the whip she was wielding.
The day I left for college, she was in tears
I didn’t really notice, I failed to tell her what was due
The situation worsened in college amidst peers
I was too wrapped up in the freedom I found anew.
Yet as the river of time flowed
Away from her, my mind I repeatedly tore
Life gradually slowed
And I realized her value to me once more.
Often I think, as wrinkles on her face advance
Her demise, inevitable it will be
So I would like to take this chance
To thank her for all that she has done for me.
It’s time for me to stop; I’m almost out of rhymes
And starting to sound too cheesy
I should retire while I’m still in my prime
Too much sappiness makes me feel queasy.
In conclusion, I would like to share my experience as a bard
Regarding writing about loved ones, which often catches people off guard
This is how you do it: You put one word
And then another, no matter how absurd
It’s then that you realize it’s that easy, and that hard.
Fifth Position:
Prompt: “If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true, the box would be empty except for … ”
Author: Varun Ayyalasomayajula, EE13B013, Tapti
Summer
Planet Earth, future sometime, technology is at its zenith.
There lived a young magician, Sam, who believed that, it’s in small things that true happiness
lies.
Why be a magician? Came the question
But did he care? No. The children loved him, Yo!
Relationship status: single at 28, nor does he have a date.
Dry his days were, until there came 500 days of summer.
His eyes flashed with summer`s at the subway, and there she took his heart away.
And so it started, the fever that took him up away.
500 days they were together
He wished them to be forever.
Times were spent together, eating dinner, watching movies,
Pleasant were the mornings too.
The moon started to seem bigger, so did his life.
Then came the day, he asked her to be his wife
If he had a box just for wishes and dreams, that had never come true, the box would have
been empty except for that “NO”, which made it full.
Never did he realize that it was he, asking her out every single time.
He didn’t knew that she was what her name described, a season.
Somewhere in him, he knew his déjà vu
The “NO” he didn’t knew was not new.
The reality was so vague to be true.
The real Sam: 82 and still single, created the magician’s world code after code, until it was
done. It was that easy.
‘Coz sad he was, he wanted her, in reality, virtual or real.
Out of his misery, he wanted to create a reality, in which they could be together forever.
However, still he never realized,
that love is the same in virtuality or reality………… It was that hard.
