AVANTIKA SINGHAL

AVANTIKA

 SINGHAL

WATCHFUL DORMANCY

You are reading this poem at a time when

the world is exploding with insuperable troubles.

When puerile and unethical kids are committing

hate crimes. When innocent blood is splayed on

the ground of a city once flourishing and lively.

You are reading this at a time when your short skirt

in your closet stares at you accusingly because you

won’t wear it due to fear of being violated.

You are reading this at a time when some women are

shining with the idea of groping men.

You are reading this at a time when everything is

so out of place that you cannot do anything about

It. You are reading this at a time when change sits

docilely in the palm of your hand and all you do

Is clench your hand in a fist and watch the world

be devoured by flames of greed and malevolence.

MOCKED WINGS

I sit in the lavatory and stare out the window

where birds converse with me about the

weather and how hard it has become to find

loyal friends these days. I nod and they fly away

talking to each other and concluding that

I have now gone poetically mad.

I tread on my own affections and

laugh my pain and ridiculousness away.

I call myself a writer and when I do so,

I hear distant laughter that tells me to soar through

the sky with the birds that I talk to.

WILTED

As a child, I was never suave

I would bury myself in words

depicting rabbit holes, handsome

detectives and soul eating gerbils.

“It’s a holiday tomorrow!.”

When Teacher would let this line float

in the air and reach my otherwise

deaf ears, I would give a faint smile.

I would go back home and lie in bed

and think about all the miracles I

would conceive, all the stories that I

would pen & all I’d do was blow air on empty walls

On days when there was no school,

I would adorn an embellished shroud

of silence and conceal myself in

shadows of myself and caress them.

I started liking doing this so much

that I threw my uniform in the fire

and painted my textbooks a crimson

red. I became wilted like a weed.

AVANTIKA SINGHAL

AVANTIKA SINGHAL is a 19 year old Indian self proclaimed poetess living in Jaipur, India. Her mother language is Hindi. She possesses hundreds of pages of poetry written by her. Over the course of her short writing career, she has managed to get her work published in various respected literary magazines such as  Writer's Asylum, Red Fez, Textploit,  Jabberwock, The Indian Review, Spillwords , Emerald Hues Anthology, Hall Of Poets Valentine Anthology etc. She aspires to make a positive impact on the masses with her writing.