Our Poetry Day was a super-hit. We managed to reach seventy viewers of whom about ten have shown interest. And of those interested poets, twenty percent have sent in their entries. Here are the entries, we proudly present to you. Numbers don’t matter as much as the spirit of writing does. Now, the tough question we have to answer for ourselves is ‘Who gets the Pen?’. Here is what we can do to decide that. In the comments section below, please write either the name of the poem or the name of the poet indicating that it is your vote. The poem that has maximum votes shall, by democratization of art, shall get the pen. Voting open until 29 October 2015 (Comments up to that time shall be counted).
On a long journey I walked tired
In growing darkness I took a halt
I sat somewhere unsure
If I am yet alive or gone
The days were long
Nights were passing alone
This was not the first time when I asked myself
Tell me tell me where exactly do I belong
Colors were getting fade
Whole world was getting covered in shade
A sudden sensation ran through my spine
Wait looks like I am not yet dead
I looked into my shadow he did the same
I said dead don’t poses shadows its a stupid game
Tried to escape he followed me back
I felt a bit of life in me I was not completely insane
Terminated my halt in darkness lit my flame
The footsteps were following me now I followed them
A path was approaching me blinking brightly
All of a sudden i remember my name
Path was all lonely had no one to stay
I realised I have come a long way
Long too long to be with my loving ones
Endless path told me I am yet to go far
Far too far to to see the humans
Whom am I blaming I told to my tears
This journey is what I wanted for years
I should have understood what I wanted
The journey called life can not be taken for granted.
Memories of Past
Memories of past
Exactly haunting ghosts
Lying in the thoughts
They are cold and frost.
Volcano in the heart
Trembling mind lies
With the approaching night
The soul of the body dies.
The past is dark
The future don’t shine
Afraid of the present
Wept the heart of mine.
I kill myself
I have put an end
Now the memories of past
Have come to an end.