Arts & Culture

11 augustus 2020
Auteur(s): Mimansha Ranjan
Literature uses the sensibility of the author to shape either an emotion, a dilemma or a narrative. Here, Mimansha Ranjan offers us the first verses that unfold human nature in a poetic reality.

by Mimansha Ranjan


She is unique yet anonymous. She doesn't want to be a part of the crowd. She lives in her own world. She is lost in her own conundrum...

She is deeper than her poetry,

Intrigued by her novelty;

Her eyes fierce and her head high,

The randomness in her mind.

She is royalty,

Clenched in cruelty;

Her plasmatic smile,

Her absurd sense of pride,

Her wings now tied.

She has Moon and stars,

Embroidered in her soul;

And she is gone so far,

Away from the chaos.

She is happy inside out,

Or maybe not;

She dances and she is wild,

Her agony; she desperately tries to hide.

Her hesitation so real,

Her perpetual thinking surreal;

Her Mighty and the Lord,

The connections she has lost.

She is powerful underneath,

And somewhere in between;

She is more than her imitations,

She has secrets and imagination;

She is nowhere to be seen,

She is tangled in her dreams;

She doesn't sing quite fine,

And a drink or two every quarterly night,

Helps her regain the tempestuous streak,

Meaningless to her seclusion and meek.

She is the night she is awake,

She is her own fairytale;

She is the things she wanna be,

She is the danger; you'll flee.

She is the darkness in the cosmos,

Appealing to what God knows;

She is abandoned and heroic,

Her blood is turquoise.

She is the river you might notice,

She is toxic; she is bliss.

She is a thirst; unsatisfied,

She is a puzzle without a guide;

She is sane or maybe insane,

She is the Spring or the Rain.

She is a monster in disguise,

She is not lost;

She is her own type.

...She craves solace and love. She craves for inspiration in the form of this love.