Child Bearers of the World – What Remains
A mother holds her baby boy close.
He had meant a thousand heartbeats.
Life inside the womb was longer than on earth.
Being still alive is no good than being stillborn.
Read the full poem HERE.
Still Standing, Still Standing….
The below is a first person account of a village tree who lost the friendship of a small boy to the big charm of the city..
My afternoon in the tedium,
I stare at the vast earth in front of me..
An old man rests, but no tractors cough nearby..
I look down, the chalk from the hopscotch has washed away..
My feet that had endured the charcoal from the bonfire..
have grown weeds..
Read the full poem HERE.
Tea Rings
Even in the testiest times, there was a decorum that played out at home,
proving that the mind is a sanctuary of our well-being and existence.
Being unassuming, shocking everyone with that touch of brilliance you possess,
turning your love into lessons of courage and gratitude.
Read the full poem HERE.
Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On..
Where you must be hunting
for bread for your family while fleeing homes for tents,
I am frivolous enough to dip the artisan chip into a bowl of guacamole.
Tonight, I’ll take pills to catch a wink,
while you find yourself undead,
After a night of rockets marching on your ear drums.
Read the full poem HERE.
Kryptonite
“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves,” Federico García Lorca once wrote. This poem explores a kryptonite-like allure that softens iron wills, the digital-age loneliness of glowing screens and unsent messages, and the exquisite torment of silent desire. I’m not asking you to like it — only to feel the gorgeous ruin of two lovers never destined to be together.
Stop taking a road trip on me.
Come closer. Right now,
you’re too far away for me
to carve crescents on your back.
Read the full poem HERE.
Love For My Lava
Over the brick wall,
police cadets march —
stiff, precise,
the way colonizers drilled them,
looking ridiculous under the sun.
Every summer
I come for the warmth of my people,
but before I can hug my grandmother
I must tread
your boiling lava face.
Read the full poem HERE.
The Full Poetry Anthology
Thank you for reading along.
In my poems, I’m insisting on hope, love, and heartbeats right in the face of whatever darkness or doubt surrounds us. Their lines hold moments of wonder, ache, defiance and the unrelenting joy of simply being alive.
Sadness, rejection, love, hate — whatever arrives, I have to let my mind harvest it so I can put them into words.
These words have walked with me through seasons of becoming, and now they wait to walk beside you. ❤️
You can read it HERE.
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About The Article Author:
Hi, I’m Rachana. Its been my dream for years to do something to consciously create a better future where every one of us is excited about our own potential. My challenge to everyone is that they aspire for their personal best and leave a legacy of their work through their contributions to mankind.
One more thing. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel.
Will you join me on this journey of growth and transformation?
Namasté.
Poetry
Human life without some form of poetry is not human life but animal existence. ~ Randall Jarrell
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