H. Bhatnagar

Evenings

The evening shadow curls around

Enveloping me without a sound

I close my eyes and let it seep

Through my chest and in so deep

Slowing my heart to pulses low

Till scarcely can I feel it flow

The bitter ice then cools my throat

In numbness I find myself afloat

The darkening haze then hides from view

Though just for seconds, precious few

All the world I will not see

Space condenses to only me…..

A fiery smoke ignites my breath

in such hours I am fond of death

I call it to take me away

Like believers to gods pray

Just take this hurt, this pain, this strife

This ache, this blood, this breath, this life.

I beg, cajole, and urge, and plead

I cry for what I sorely need

But like your god, death insensate

ignores and leaves me to my fate

Fate, that laughing, taunting beast

When needed most, provides the least

Sees me fall, hovers above

Lets loose its demons, hope and love

And as they chew on me, I cry

“You’ve had your fill! Now let me die!”

But they will not hear my plea

They like the taste too much you see

So they leave me lying here

A wreck for which no one would care

And go as I call out in vain

Tomorrow they will feast again.

You can find more by this author on- https://hbhatnagar.wordpress.com

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Ramya

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Dear Sylvia,

Tell me where your ghost wanders so that I may find you again. In my mind, I see you – floating eternally, autumnally, blowing along in this October chill, swept along in a gust of flame-colored, fire-crackling leaves. You wail down the city streets of Boston, a desolate specter, though not wholly lonely. You inhabit the fields behind the new high school, the grassy paths, the library named after your old English teacher. I walked down Elmwood Road once, spurred by some desperate, disconsolate hope I’d find you lurking there, scribbling poems into flesh & swallowing down pills to keep the love down. You were my Lady Lazarus, my Ariel, and I am writing you my first mad girl’s lovesong. Sylvia, don’t stick your head in the oven. The stars are coming home tonight, and they are not the bright, cold pinpricks you’d once described but warm, friendly, twinkling in their congenial manner. They light the sky ablaze, and I keep them close to my heart so that I may find you again.

You can find more by this author on-

http://isoflors.wordpress.com/

(Photo contributed by author herself)

Tanvi Kusum

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Here is another one of my stupid attempts.
Yeah I still don’t know how to draw well, but the ideas I want to put on paper wouldn’t let me leave them for measly reasons like wacky proportions.

This is called ‘smoky dreams’ and the bubbles are supposed to be smoky maybe showing loss of childhood? I don’t know, it is open to interpretation. Just like everything else in life.

Tanvi Kusum

Dear Sylvia,

I am quite new to the art of letter writing but I do believe that some things would have been better said through this medium. The art of sending another human words  has shrunk to text messaging, and the sentences are getting shorter and shorter. Some things we are forgetting to say, simply because we don’t know how to say them.

Today, I wanted to write to you about love. Really, what is it about the affection of another person can we just cannot resist? Being strong, independent. happy, but one day a guy strolls in and there you are, trying to win him. What is it about love that we all search for it, and no matter how hard we try, it envelops us in it’s saccharine goodness and kills us slowly.

It attracts everyone of us, and we give in, at the moment or gradually. It makes us stupid and makes us question our decision. It makes us forget ourselves as we struggle to agree we what the other person likes, and it does this all without us knowing! How do you hold your own and fall in love, how do you say, this is me and I love She’s The Man, and it doesn’t matter that you hate it, maybe we aren’t right for each other?

I know there is supposed to be this ONE PERFECT PERSON, but really what about the long intervals he isn’t present in my life. Are we supposed to wait, but waiting hurts. We fill our lives with unimportant amusements to take our mind away from love, and when it actually knocks on out door, it has been so long that we’ve forgotten what true love was.

Why does love make me want to feel accepted, when the only thing is desire is being free?

 

Opher Goodwin

Editor’s note– Here is a little bit different post from our usual ‘talking about feelings’ blog posts about a very relevant issue of our times in a beautiful and understandable manner. I hope it gets you thinking, just like it did to me.

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Dear Sylvia,

I am extremely depressed by the state of the planet and what we are doing to it.

Let us look into the future and extrapolate from where we are to where we are heading.

Scenario 1

The premise:

  1. The population continues to grow
  2. There are no catastrophes that wipe us out

Man is extremely good at solving problems. So let us assume that we negotiate our way through problem after problem. We do not annihilate ourselves through nuclear war or manufactured biological warfare. We do not succumb to a virus. We merely continue to grow in numbers.

These are the consequences:

  1. Space and shelter. We need land and housing and our cities, towns and villages grow. The countryside becomes consumed in plastic and concrete. Roads connect and transport systems enable easy access.
  2. The Wilderness. The wilderness and natural world become open to us and exploited for farming, mining, logging and habitation until there is no more inaccessible wilderness areas. Roads run through every place.
  3. The Wild-life. The wild-life now has no habitat left, no food, shelter or way of living. It is butchered for meat, hunted for ivory or medicine (The rarer it gets, the more it is worth, the higher the price, the more worth the risk). The remnants of the wild things are corralled into parks or zoos and confined, protected and used as objects of tourism. Those considered pests, unpleasant or dangerous are eradicated.
  4. Food. Even with all the wilderness opened up for farming, the seas fully harvested and hydroponics, genetic modifications and intensive farming methods there is not sufficient food for the burgeoning population. Food is produced from bacteria and fungus in vast industrial vats (Pruteen, mycoprotein etc. – already produced in large quantities – in our pies, sausages etc.), textured, flavoured and used as a meat substitute. Proper meat is a luxury food item.
  5. Water. Water is a dwindling resource and desalination plants provide supplies.
  6. Energy. Fossil fuels are replaced by large-scale sustainable technology – probably nuclear fusion supplemented with solar.
  7. Weather. The effects of global warming are alleviated. The hurricanes and extreme weather conditions are now able to be controlled.
  8. Oxygen. Oxygen is a natural product of photosynthesis. With the destruction of the forests and pollution of the oceans it is no longer being produced in sufficient quantities. Oceans are seeded to produce algal blooms and hydrolysis plants produce oxygen from water.

Our lives in these huge metropolises are highly controlled. Our environment is plastic. Our food, water and even the air we breathe is manufactured. We take our children to see the last remaining trees in the tree museum. We then go to the zoo to get a glimpse of and wonder at the little animals that used to run free in the wild.

It’s a vision of the future. It is quite possible. But is that the way we really want to live? Is that the world we want to pass on to our children?

In Scenario 1 the population continued to grow eating up space, wilderness and destroying all naturally living creatures. Technology dealt with the problems of food, water, energy, weather and even oxygen in the atmosphere. We lived in huge urban developments and the world is devoid of wild-life and natural areas.

Scenario 2.

The premise:

  1. We realise the impact of our actions on the environment and limit our numbers, conserve the wilderness and wild-life, stop our habitat destruction and pollution.
  2. We lay aside 50% of the planet for wilderness and wild-life. We do not allow roads, hunters or development in these areas.

We are extremely good at solving problems. We can easily create a sustainable future where wilderness and wild-life has a place.

The result:

  1. We introduce contraception, education and family planning on a global scale and successfully reduce our population.
  2. We use technology to produce better transport, housing, energy production, and food.
  3. We do not have urban sprawl, deforestation, overfishing, or other unsustainable exploitation of the environment.
  4. We raise the standards of life for all people globally so that there is no longer war, conflict or poverty. There are social services, pensions and sick pay enabling people to live without requiring large numbers of children to support them through hard times.
  5. We produce technology that is not polluting and is sustainable. We have ample energy (probably through nuclear fusion and solar) and our farming methods are not cruel or ineffective. We can produce ample good food to support the population without encroaching on the wilderness areas.
  6. The forests are conserved. Fishing is sustainable. The weather and global warming is controlled.
  7. 50% of the world is teeming with wild-life that we can marvel at. The air, water and soil are not contaminated with carcinogens. We globally control the weather and global warming. Everything regarding conservation and pollution is controlled and enforced globally.

I know which of the two possible future scenarios I would prefer to live in.

The future is for our grandchildren’s grandchildren. In my own life-time we have destroyed over half of the world. I feel we are at the precipice. Will we jump?

What do you think Sylvia?

Best wishes

Opher Goodwin

You can find more by this author on

https://opherworld.wordpress.com

Google – Opher’s World – for original writing on a vast range of subjects.

Amazon for Opher Goodwin books:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1427206128&sr=1-2-ent

 

 

 

Tanvi Kusum

I’m like the heavy bulk of a sinking ship
Riding on me is my self esteem
Drowning in the negativity
First bow then stern
Look at me vanish
Let me be home to the fishes now
Let wolves feed on my corpse.

Someone told me that they wished they were there to save Sylvia, it made me smile because really we all wish we were. But it actually wasn’t possible. I can’t say for sure if it was or wasn’t, but for me I think it wasn’t. Not because she was beyond hope, but because you couldn’t see.
Everyday thousands pass us, sad and unhappy, and yet we are helpless, moving with our lives, living our struggle. I see it impossible to say to someone what I really feel, because frankly I don’t know what I feel. One day I’m happy, in the sun, dancing, listening to birds, lying down in the grass, being one of those indomitable ones of nature, and a heart which echoes the unlimited possibilities. And the second day, here I am, lying in my dark room, smelly bed sheets, worse self confidence and bleak prospects. It is not like I don’t have friends, or getting more friends will make it better. I really don’t know what will.
I just know this is how I am, and thousands pass me every day, they not helping me, me not helping them, each stuck in our own storm, quivering in life.

( Image is Winslow Homer’s The Gulf Stream)
(You can find more by this author on- http://tanvikusum.wordpress.com/)

H Bhatnagar

scream

Efface

If you can’t look life in the face

Then it’s really not a life worth living

I’ve tried to get through it with grace

But I have grown tired of giving

I’m made to feel so out of place

And told the world’s unforgiving

I could vanish without a trace

And nothing would be missing

I’m a waste of useful space I’m tired,

I’m tired of living.

You can find more by this author on- https://hbhatnagar.wordpress.com (The painting is Edvard Munch’s  The Scream)

Tate Viviano

tate

Dreams in a Forest

In the forest the lonely crow caws.

It’s voice echoes in the silence.

I am the only one who hears it’s call.

As I sit next to my fire trying to stay warm.

I hear the foreboding in it’s shrill voice.

I know that loneliness.

I look around searching for the silhouette

of another lost soul.

But I find nothing.

In the forest I hear the yelp of the hungry fox.

I hear the weariness in it’s sobbing.

It’s sly ways have got it nowhere.

I hear the soft pats of its footfall.

I see its shadowy form approaching my pitiful food stores.

I break off what I can spare for the wretched beast.

It’s better to have company on these dark nights.

I hear the crash of a falling tree.

The fox runs in fright.

I am alone again.

I walk to the sight of the dead elder.

I need it’s corpse to keep my fire going.

I threw it’s legs upon the flames and they rose in triumph.

“From ash you came to ash you shall become!” I hear in the crackle of burning wood.

I stay next to the warmth until the sand man takes me away.

In my dreams I see a phantom.

It is blacker than the night I just left.

It follows me as I walk threw the forest of dreams.

I see my companions the Crow and the Fox.

They lay in the belly of a giant ash tree.

The phantom approaches us and beckons me to follow it.

It shows me a scene I’ve seen before.

We walk to a hole six feet deep.

At the bottom there is a door.

It hands me a key and says ” The time has come to leave this place.”

As I put the key into the whole I hear the tumblers fall.

The door begins to creek open and I see…

I see the smoldering remains of my fire in a forest.

I put my bread crust into my pocket and I journey on.

Still haunted by this dream.

When will that time come?

When will I finally see what lies behind the door?

The crow perched on the branch of an ash tree calls out.

“Not yet my friend.”

And I walk on.

You can find more by this author on- https://tateviviano.wordpress.com/

(Photo contributed by author himself)

Vidhi Tiku

Dear Sylvia,
Lately I’ve been thinking about death. What would I feel like after? Would it be blissful like the saints preach? Tranquil like the monks hope for? Or just another existence after this existence we call life? Would I feel like a person or just an observer? But the most important question is, Sylvia, would I feel? Feel the insane emotions I feel right now? My mood swings from enraged to sulking to contemplative to happy in seconds.
I have to confess, I know nothing about how you must’ve felt while you were alive. You can’t really rely on Google for that stuff. Your life must be as crazy a ride as any woman’s, I’m sure.
What am I to feel when my hearts in a whirlwind of emotions from a heated argument I had earlier that day and I look at a child, limbless and blind asking for money like it wasn’t his right to life and luxury as any one of ours? I feel little. Little in front of all these people who’re literally fighting to live in a world where most of us are just busy depreciating and devaluing things we should be grateful for. It’s funny how the things we’re taking for granted, are the things that someone else is praying for.

On second thought, no matter how miserable this existence, you deserved to live. To be able to see the beauty of people and their ways. I personally find it fascinating. Some choose to deny the existence of a supernatural being; thereby denying optimism. After all, believing that you’re being watched is not only beneficial in a test hall. Some steal, lie, cheat, beg… Anything that’s convenient. Like they say, life is interesting for those who think and tragic for those who feel. I’m of the interested lot. You should have been too. I don’t know where you are right now, I’m sure you won’t see this(still hoping actually)but you shouldn’t have given up. Whatever this is, I know that you can either take it as a jail sentence, or a jungle safari.

H Bhatnagar

Demon

It comes at me with daggers drawn
In those dark hours before the dawn
The first strike on the mind
The second on the heart
Slash, Slash and then it’s gone.

Gone, but oh, never for good
Leave me? It never ever would
I’m such an easy prey
And what a prized scalp!
Leave? Not even if it could

It bleeds me every blessed morn
With daggers my flesh roughly torn
And then I bleed myself
With my dagger each night
And cut on cut is borne.

When nothing of me will remain
Except a rusty, dried up stain
Then I might have some peace
Then the demon will leave
When death will ease the pain.

You can find more by this author on- https://hbhatnagar.wordpress.com/

Editor’s note– The author said that his writing had never been appreciated so much before, and it reinstated my faith in the blog, because that is what this was created for- appreciation and dialogue of emotions.