Love’s Labour Lost

Hello! I’m very apprehensive about the poem I’m posting today. I tried something different which isn’t really my style but I did want to write it once. So, please be kind but, of course, constructive criticism is always welcome! What intrigues me is that the verse below is quite open to interpretation and it would really mean a lot if you could tell me what you made of it. I’ll love to hear the different versions and how they relate to what I intended while writing it. Continue reading “Love’s Labour Lost”

Advertisements

My Own Monster

Do you remember?

When we were kids,

We had such ideas in our head,

That in the night there used to be,

Monsters in our closet,

While evil lurked under our bed.

And we would cry,

And scream,

And shiver,

Scared half to death,

Till our parents ran in,

To switch on the lights,

And lo, there was nothing there.

For even as kids, we could see,

That there are no monsters in the light.

But we grew up,

And had to keep up,

A myriad appearances.

Our fears became a thing of the past,

As we got caught up in pretences.

We learnt to shove aside all doubt,

And let no one see past our cover.

No matter how afraid we were,

We’d never indulge in a cower.

But I say,

Continue reading “My Own Monster”

#FlashbackFriday Edition #3

Hello, and welcome to today’s edition of Flashback Friday. This is where I showcase a poem, every week, that should never get lost in the sands of time. They’re hand picked, especially curated pieces by some very illustrious poets. (Regular readers – see, I’m keeping up my promise of finally posting one a week. yay, me! Aren’t you proud? *wink wink*) To read previous poem posted in this edition, please click here.

Today’s poem is one that was introduced to me by my father when I was a kid. It is poignant and profound. It can very well be made a motto to live life by. I know I try my best to emulate it. I even wrote it down and pinned it above my bed for daily inspiration. So, for you today, here’s

Continue reading “#FlashbackFriday Edition #3”

The Journey

I followed my heart once,

and it broke me.

I followed my mind next,

and it woke me.

Now I sit,

Caught in the middle,

Contemplating my steps ahead.

And on either end, with arms bare,

Stands waiting for me, the mighty despair.

Would someone, please, be so kind? Continue reading “The Journey”

A Portrait in Contrasts

Imagine a blood red sky,

Adorned with the golden specks of a setting sun’s ray.

Imagine clumps of wet sand

Dripping the blackest of inks.

An overripe peach,

Dipped in a faded, white cream.

An expanse of deep blue waters,

Overshadowed by rusty, clay cliffs.

The earthy, green tones of old, rotting woods,

Continue reading “A Portrait in Contrasts”

Poem Featured on Blood Into Ink: Why a Poet- Varnika Jain

Okay, okay, I know I’m spamming but I’m beyond excited! Here’s another poem that got featured! Blood into Ink is a very special literary collective that holds a place close to my heart. It undertakes the challenging and inspiring job of presenting voices of survivors. Not victims, but warriors who’ve survived trauma, abuse, all kinds of violence and acts unspeakable. Everytime I visit this platform and read a poem, I grow as a person. My mind evolves. My heart, however, softens and learns more empathy. I am sure you won’t be able to escape it’s transforming effects either. But I’m equally sure you wouldn’t be complaining. So go and visit Blood Into Ink and see the world differently, in a truer manner and, maybe, vow to change it in your own way. Thank you!

Blood Into Ink

Poet in me yet

There is hurt

In measures I’m yet to fathom.

There are pieces,

Broken,

Which I haven’t yet begun to gather.

There are tears,

Gaping,

Waiting to be stitched and mended.

There are wounds,

Oozing,

Bloodying numerous gauzes.

Despair, you say?

Run and hide?

I’m broken, you say?

What’s there to survive?

But, wait,

I think,

There’s a poet in me yet.


Varnika Jain is prone to having verbal epiphanies in the midst of all the cacophony surrounding her life.  She is a voracious reader, vociferous eater and a vehemently passionate writer. You can read more of her writing at Moonlighting Scrivener where you can find her changing the world, one word at a time.

View original post

Poem Featured on Go Dog Go Cafe : Guest Barista Varnika Jain/Reminiscence

Hello, my lovelies! It gives me great pleasure to inform you that another one of my poems got featured. The platform, which bestowed this honour on me today, is called Go Dog Go Cafe. It’s a place where writers gather without boundaries and I was yesterday’s Guest Barista. It’s a perfect mix of funny, quirky, thoughtful, poetry beans, roasted and blended and topped with a healthy dollop of the cream of literature. A lot of you must have already read the featured poem earlier on my blog but it would mean the world to me if you could please take out some time to visit the collective by reading on below and clicking on the link. You will surely end up finding poets with a wavelength matching yours or poems that open up new avenues in your mind. Go visit for a coffee date with words and writers!
Thank you.

Go Dog Go Café

It’s a distant memory,

That comes and goes.

Never lingering long enough,

For me to remember it in full.

It’s a kaleidoscopic reel

Of vibrant images,

Flashing in and out,

Changing in split seconds.

It brings with it

A vivid feeling

Of happiness and well-being.

Leaving me oft

With a smiling face

And a definite spring in steps.

I may never be able

To piece together

It’s different forms and hues,

But I can always rely

On its happy tenor

To be a harbinger of good news.


Varnika Jain is prone to having verbal epiphanies in the midst of all the cacophony surrounding her life.  She is a voracious reader, vociferous eater and a vehemently passionate writer. You can read more of her writing at Moonlighting Scrivener where you can find her changing the world, one word at a time.

View original post

The Face of a Woman

But what will you do, my dear,

When the day of reckoning is here?

For in this world, on lies and deceit you’ve thrived,

And let truth venture nowhere near.

Will you sweet-talk your way

Out of eternal damnation?

Or will you submit yourself to be judged

Through a chaffing trial by fire?

Or will you kneel, accepting defeat

Because of your innumerable wrongdoings?

Continue reading “The Face of a Woman”