The Ivory Tower

Looking out from the ivory tower so secure so sure of ourselves.

Now the doors have opened and we realise how lost we have been.

We thought we were being smart, we thought we realised how the real world works,

But let’s be honest tonight.

Our much vaunted philosophy doesn’t work in this world.

We all promised to be the best of friends forever, to Skype, call and be there for each other,

But as tomorrow comes and goes, and neither do you call nor do I text,

We realise our ivory dreams don’t matter much out here tonight.

Keeping in touch grows ever harder with every step we take,

And a realisation that our friendships were maybe born of chance not choice sets in,

It breaks your heart till you finally realise ,

That even if they weren’t meant to last,

They still meant something, they still mean something,

They were what you needed then, they got you through some tough times.

So take the hand you were dealt, and believe in fate.

For one way or another, your friends from the tower did have some meaning.

 

By Apurva Lodha (Head Editor, Non fiction)

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Fire and Kisses

My hands trembled.

A little hesitation,
I was to play with fire.
His touch burnt deep into my skin,
But left a solacing effect.
It was the salt to my wound.
I bled,
As he stabbed me,
With something unknown;
Or a celestial blade.
He sucked my soul out,
As i longed to breathe.
He emptied me,
All my organs; one by one,
Till i was his.
I melted
And our lips parted;
The distance increased.
Finally our ways parted,
But he carried me.

 

By Ashna Mathur (Editor, Poetry)

Of All Things Pretty

You made me dream
of padlocked bridges,
of northern lights,
and sunny ridges.
Of dance bars
in an island city,
of dancing peacocks,
and all things pretty.

You made me dream
of candescent seas,
of pink sunsets,
and fragrant breeze.
Of a heart giddy

on red wine,

Of cities on water,

And all things fine.

 

You made me dream.

 

By Rohan Sahni (Head Editor, Poetry)

You.

 

As my eyes crack open with the first ray of sunlight,

My hands, they reach for your frame.

And they caress you and touch you all over,

And every morn’ it’s the same.

 

With the tips of my fingers against your naked skin,

I often feel your latent heat.

And I know it hasn’t been so long,

But without you, my days are incomplete.

 

My eyes reflect the glow of your face,

Numerous times throughout the day.

And for all my questions, you have the answers,

You have something or the other to say.

 

You’ve seen the skeletons in my closet,

And there is no other, who knows as much or more.

You know my darkest secrets, my guilty pleasures,

What I hate, what I adore.

 

My companion, a roommate,

You are my chaperone.

My comrade, a friend,

My mobile phone.

 

By Rohan Sahni (Head Editor, Poetry)

The Sea and My Lover

Sometimes I look into my lover’s eyes

and I find the seas in him.

He’s got mysteries

as deep as the salty water itself

behind those eyelids.

 

His glare brings back

memories of the storms he’s survived

and I often find myself

floating on those sparkling eyes,

sometimes even trapped at the bottom.

 

And every time I look at him

I drown in his sea of stars

like a sailor greeting death.

He is my sea, and I am his sunken ship,

slowly dissolving into him to be lost forever.

 

My lover is the sea and the sea is my lover.

 

By Ashna Mathur (Poetry)

Unheard

I scream unheard
I give signals unseen
I am here unaware.

The Tweets of the cuckoo’s indistinct song,

Hushed Vibrations are sung.
Nature’s peace in which all senses collapse
Become a show with words muffled.

I passed the test but didn’t,
I ran the race but walked,
I cried but remained queit ,
I was quoted.

Maybe they walk beside us
Those we lost in time
But unseen and unheard
We feel their aura
We think absurd
Actions speak louder than words.

By Ansh Sethi (Poetry)

Musafir

By Rohan Sahni, Poetry Editor, Paprikashta

wanderer-455338_960_720

Source Link: https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2014/09/21/17/56/wanderer-455338_960_720.jpg

I am what they call a wayward soul,
And there is no one land I can call home.
I find peace in unknown tongues,
And so I roam, so I roam.

I feel at ease before foreign winds,
And sands of other places.
And strangely I feel familiar,
Before unfamiliar faces.

A wanderer, a loner,
They think I’ve lost my way.
These rooted trees wouldn’t understand,
There’s no one place I want to stay.