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 out cover.

No matter how afraid we were,

We’d never indulge in a cower.

But I say,

Fear, my dear,

And be afraid.

Remind yourself of what it was like,

To feel a child-like fear,

And when you feel the time is ripe,

Do not hesitate,

To switch on the light,

And in the brightness that ensues,

Take a breath with your head held high,

And ready yourself for every fight,

‘Cause even children know, my dear,

There are no monsters in the light.

Happiness can be found, in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. – Albus Dumbledore

Advertisements

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

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”

Death Comes as the End

Blank walls

And blank pages.

Nothing to account for

A life that was lived.

The still warm body

Looked peacefully at rest

Endowed with an eternal sleep.

Yet, still floating behind those closed eyes,

Lingering as if to prolong their goodbyes,

Were a myriad fluttering dreams.

Continue reading “Death Comes as the End”

Miss Misery

Misery.

Now that’s a feeling altogether too familiar.

An intermittent visitor, almost familial.

But that’s the thing about bad feelings.

They trouble you only when experienced meagerly.

An overdose confers you with immunity.

In my case,

I’ve come to accept it,

Welcome it,

And even

Conquer it.

Continue reading “Miss Misery”

Whisper and the Roar – Poetry Feature

Hello, beautiful people!

Have you heard of the literary collective called “Whisper and the Roar”? Considering the overwhelming response I’ve been getting on my feminist poems and posts, I thought now would be the right time to introduce this incredibly brave and unapologetically feminist forum to you all. And, guess what? Sometimes its curators are kind enough to feature my works. Like today, for example! I’m so proud of myself for having done an excellent job at hiding my excitement right up to the last line one here!

If you stand for humanity, equality, love and compassion for all, please visit the collective. Its bound to either enrage your senses at the glaring injustices present in our society, or to give you hope that there are people working hard to put an end to it all and create a fair environment for everyone to grow and thrive in. Either way, you’d get a taste of soul-stirring literature. Today’s feature is a poem I wrote last week, titled “No Ordinary Fairytale”. Please click here to go to the collective and read it. I would love to have your feedback on it!

Thank you for reading.

Love,

Varnika.