Hell Or Heaven

By: Krishna Mehra ,1st year, BTech(CSE)

 

What happens when we die,
What happens when we lie,
What is their inside your soul :
Love or Hatred.
Anger or Curiosity.
Hell or Heaven.
Or mere a bundle of frustrations..
Which is becoming the cause of your devastation..

Nothing is pure,
Benevolence is rare,
With people giving you pain to bear.

Is this our magnanimous nature ?
Is this our humanity ?
Or our selfish charity.

What happened, What is happening, What will happen..
Is not in our hands.
We are mere puppets
Choosing our own destiny..

Persisting nature can’t be changed
We are free birds..
Can’t live in a cage..

Freedom is required
Plethora of feelings we have
We want to spread Love
So Let’s break all the bonds and fly.
Never stop just try.

Twisted

A poem by Shrayansh Singh ,Civil Engg.,Third Year.

Three toddlers thought to talk thoughts
Too trivial thoughts to talk, the three toddlers thought.
This took the toddlers time to think through thoughts
Tickling tattered toddlers, the thoughts thought–
Trivial thoughts they think to talk to thoughts’ trespassing thoughts.

“Thee torments thou thinkers”-
three toddlers thought.
Trivial thoughts the toddlers thought to talk to
Thoughts the toddlers thought to talk.
This troubled the toddlers to think to talk.
Too tough to talk to thoughts, the Time thought.
To talk to the toddlers through the trouble,
Time travelled through tombs time tooled.

“To talk to thee thou travelled through time”-
told time to three toddlers.
Time tried talking to toddlers through thoughts.
Twitching toddlers twinkled,
Their thoughts tickled.
Together the thoughts trembled, tabled to talk to three toddlers.
“Thoughts too trifle to truffle”-
thought the three toddlers.

Tough to think truce, Time totalled.
Three twisted toddlers
Troubled Thoughts tenaciously.
Tired, troubled, tangled,
The trivial Thoughts threw in the towel.
Time thought-
“Task to talk thoughts too toiling,
Troubled toddlers travailed, tottering top to toe.”

This thought the tiny tramp, trespassing Time’s trap.

Curious Curse- A Poet’s life in Intrigue

– Shrayansh Singh (Civil, 3rd year)

 

 
Creativity is a curse.
Spending hours composing a verse,
Struggling, stumbling, exploring;
Diving deep to discover
The rare abstractions of nature.

 

 
Losing track of time, and
Getting lost in the lust of imagination.
Failing and trying to sketch the vivid emotion.
Skipping lunch and dinner with some cheese and lemon.

 

 
Postponing dates and getting detentions
For the sake of literary leisure and poetic satisfaction.
Isn’t this abstract curiosity a curse of sense gratification?

 

 
I ponder and ponder
And think in the cauldron of phrases and words immortal.
Searching a mojo or a hex
To gank the demon Curiosity so stronger.

 

 
No! No! I cannot
I am too weak.
This is a curse I must endure
I could resist the desire no more.
Inquisitive mind’s sweet melody,
Rousing my mind and body.
This is the cursed curiosity.
 

Just…keep breathing

A poem by Shrayansh Singh (3rd Year).

Hope is now a false lore,

Soothing, yet misleading more.

Struggle there is to endure,

Moribund life there is to survive,

Broken I am to the core.

 

Should I give in?

Should I cease breathing in?

This conundrum of survival is overwhelming.

The quandary is so confusing, exhausting,

A tight corner on the road mysteriously bending,

I look around for answers to questions,

Mocking my existence precariously.

Should I give in?

Should I stop breathing in?

Is giving up on one’s self just okay?

Is this battle worth fighting every day?

Waking up every morning,

With the fear of sinking in,

Heart clutched in the claws of Misery,

I slip into my shoes,

Too scared to go out,

Too weak to blurt out.

Should I give in?

Should I stop breathing in?

I ask myself this question,

Sitting in dark corner of this cave,

I ponder and ponder,

And think and yonder,

Bells didn’t ring, neither came any explanation.

 

Should I really stop breathing?

Whispered an old bird in a faint dream,

It twitched its frail wings,

shivered, coughed, breathed heavily.

Aged, its eyes were,

Face etched with struggles, experience the eyes bear.

Crooked shoulders. Flaky hair.

But full of energy, life, and air.

 

Should I really stop breathing?

Asked I to the wise old bird chirping.

Hope is rare, but a feeling so relieving,

A path of rose lies after the curve steeply bending,

If comes winter, how far lies the Spring?

What is life without troughs challenging?

What honour comes to warrior kneeling?

Light shall be here soon.

For now, just…keep breathing.

So, just…keep breathing, okay?

 

Colours

poetry by : Vansika Pareek, B.Tech (First Year).

Springs made their way;

From neck to pubis.

Shredded back and ensanguined soil.

Stripped off , I stand.

Silent, I stand.

Let splashes speak.

I flew with Chronos.

 

Plantations are quiet.

Slavery,

Abolishes of words.

For the eyes did say;

Know the difference.

 

Even if brand tags are missing;

Though not in emporiums,

Clothes are sold, maybe in a kiosk.

 

In other life,

I will choose on colours.

I HAVE A DREAM

Image source: The  Internet
Written by: Aarushi Sehgal, CSE(1st Year).
 
I have a dream,
Even if I am thrown away or ripped to shreds,
Deep inside my heart ,
I have a dream as precious as gems.
 
 
If by chance, without a reason,
Somebody ridicules me behind my back,
I would be patient,
I would just wait for the day.
 
 
As you always worry,
You say that foolish dreams are poisonous ,
Like a book, that tells us about the end of the world,
And there’s the reality that we can’t turn back now.
 
 
I have a dream,
I believe in that dream,
So please watch over me,
Standing in front of a cold wall called fate ,
I can firmly face it.
 
 
One day I will pass over that wall,
And I’ll be able to fly,
As high as the sky.
This heavy life can’t tie me down,
At the end of my life,the other day when I can smile,
The other day when I can smile,
 Let’s be together.

Essence of a Drop

 

by:  Krishna Mehra ,1st year, BTech(CSE).

Life, a mélange of different seasons,
One comes, other goes,
With tons of happiness and Pain.
Still remember that old day,
Sitting on the roof with you
Never thought!
How our friendship lasts so long…
Coming to the Earth, dying on Earth
Is not only your feature…
But your main motto
Is to give birth to a new creature…
Pitter-Patter on window panes
And lying down on road lanes
Friendship with you is different
Now your life has become so indifferent !
Be it us humans, animals or birds
Everyone is deteriorating your essence,
HURTING YOU-
With their deeds,
But Now I try to woo you
Dear,
You are very important for me,
For mother Earth and for all living creatures.
You give happiness and remove pain,
Because you are none other than Rain.

Her Beauty

By: Arunima Khunteta, CSE dual degree, first year

Sunshine sparkled her face as she came by
Dressed in white, her serene face shown.
The hair strand falling on her cheeks
And her fingers playing with them;
Something lay in her heart as she smiled.
What was it…! I wondered by
Her lips mumbled something that I did not grasp,
Her eyes twinkled as she spoke by
Then she held my hands and my heart skipped a beat.
Her laugh, her beauty,her charisma was so mesmerizing.
In her I drowned and my heart was with her.
Oh! how I loved her and adorned her.!

 

PS: Source and Picture credits to the owner.

Time is such a drag

– Raghav Sharma (IIITU 15127)

I’m too proud that ‘am growing
With the swing of the time ‘am flowing.
Once I was short, just a tiny tot,
Dreaded of light who cried a lot.
You were the guardians, numbered two
In that scariest time, I knew very few.

You told me there is nothing beneath the bed.
Wind just crackled the window, don’t be so afraid.
And slept beside me giving me a strong hold;
Gave that lovely dream and swayed away the cold.

You told me you’re proud, your son is growing.
But mom it’s all your great reap that you’re sowing.
I am still a kid, I still fear.
It’s not the dark, nor the sound. I still cry a tear.

With every visit to home my pain grew deeper,
Your skin grew more brown, eyes grew weaker.
I am too afraid that you’re growing.
More to my scariest dreams, the time is flowing.

I am still a kid, I still cry a tear.
God take my body so that my parents’ll always be here!

Would you?

by: Apoorva Sharma (15510)

You’d love her,

The one with a face

Not that lethal;

One who’s more of a rain ,

Than sunshine.

You’d love her,

The girl who is busy

More with novels,

Than dressing up;

Who’s rather silent ,

Than rhythms and words.

You’d love her,

The one who makes you

Drop deep down an ocean,

Dark,

Than swim safe ashore.

But,

Would you ?