Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
188 · May 2021
Ashes in the burn.
Pranjal Singh May 2021
Heavy is how I feel today
But today is everyday
Tea is of no help to me
And neither is a cup of coffee
Unfinished lines written all over
The screeches of a few more
Will I leave this too, undone?
Leaving the ashes in the burn

Life stares as death blares
And I make my truce
With the empty words,
Empty letters, must and should's

While all I want is to
Walk with the wind
To the gulls and the sun
Teasing the speckles on the crescent
Does that make me a traitor
To not love just one?

Creases and folds
On the lottery tickets
That's ought to make dozens
Till then, I'll just hide
Like a needle in the hay
And watch the world die in rue
And sad rains.

94 · Jun 2021
Pranjal Singh Jun 2021
People, they lie
People, they search for uniqueness
All their lives
Until they come across
A boy, fond of pink
And a girl who adores the color blue.

People, they lie
People, they draw and sing
The great melodies of love and life
And write the tragedies themselves
When a man loves a man
When a woman yearns for another.

People, they lie
People, they long to see rainbows
But shun the sight of someone
Painted with the seven pride shades
Calling them a disgrace
As if its theirs to call them by names.

People, living in denial
Understand and accept
There is no them and us
All are humans
There is no difference
All loves love.

86 · May 2021
Pranjal Singh May 2021
It is not the dark I fear
It's the blindness,
The shadow before eyes
When you turn to dark
After bathing in the light.
It is not the end I fear
It's the majestic start.
It is not uncertainty I fear
It's the mapped out art,
Drawn under the defined borders
And wired lines.
It's not the night I fear
It's the morning with no sunshine.
It's not flying I fear
It's the run before the flight.
It's not the words I fear
It's the writer's invite
To their mystery land of thoughts
We are so afraid to see.
And it's not the commas I fear
It's the last full stop.

82 · May 2021
Rain taps / paper boat
Pranjal Singh May 2021
Rain taps on the windowpane
The dead singing along the downpour,
The living dying with each descending raindrop
who's the one here shedding the tears
who among these holds life more dear?
A simple thing life, a fickle thing life
a selfish thing life, making us endear it endlessly.
Do you ever think about it?
how cruel it is to keep running away
And running towards death
with each passing deed.
But till the time comes
Rush behind the paper boat that is now afloat
of vintage dreams and debt notes
praying for it to see the seven seas
and return with flowers from different springs,
Inhale the reeking of the wet earth
soaked in collateral damage
and daily contemplations.
Wait till the bow appears,
a prism of colors and hope
a celebration of mistakes
and the spectator of my forlorn attempt to escape.

74 · May 2021
Coming of age
Pranjal Singh May 2021
Skin shows and eye rolls
Paying heavy bills
And popping pills
Not seeking mayhem but peace.
We are the raging age,
Born into the the realm of cages
Racing on dopamine.

We are the blood moon
And the flaming sun
We bleed, we burn
To bury this war of guns.

Too much time we've spent
Playing with the dolls,
But now we understand
This game of hide and seek,
This world offers nothing
But imprisoning tricks,

Deceiving us to love
The ****** perfections
But no more we submit
To the normalized beauty bars
And hating ugly hours
If it is our war
Then it's time to shut the shaming door.

We love cult classics
And coming of age dramas
No more looking for clean slates
We've learnt to live with our traumas
And our ill written fates.

Broken bones, broken ribs, we don't care.
Breaking free, living dreams, we dare.

73 · Feb 2021
Pranjal Singh Feb 2021
What is life, I ask.
And the cosmos plays the symphony
It's in a little rain, a little sun
A little dust, a little rust
A little soberness
And a little drunk on liquor,
And in some memories blur.
It's in the season autumn,
When the olive leaves tear
As they may.
In the spring as the flowers heyday
In winter's cold grey
And in young summer's day.
It's in the faint music
Playing in the background,
In lost and in found.
It's in the time of day
When you see the moon
And the sun together, they lay
One at the horizon of a new fate
The other at the horizon to abate.
What is life, I ask again
It's in madness, and in sanity.
Life, a moving image to eternity.

72 · May 2021
Light and dawn.
Pranjal Singh May 2021
Deep under the hiding places
Lurking around dark abyss
Quiet hallways,
A little stroll with self doubts
Dancing along loneliness
Is there no one available
For help hours?

Do you notice few beings
The same ones as I do
Wearing costumes and nametags
Everyone seems lost
Lost in love,
With the idea
Of being in love.

Where's the road to
Simple and normal?
Where's the button to
Happy and rewind?
What about the time
When there was no solving
The big mystery
Of complicated miseries.

Close your eyes,
Just a moment to heal
Do you see the same beings?
Just without the costumes
Do you see through them
No need of the nametags?
No black and white
The dark abyss gone
Sailed back to
The light and dawn.

70 · Feb 2021
Crack of dawn.
Pranjal Singh Feb 2021
Sitting up on the roof top
Letting my mind drop
Recollecting all the sugary talks
And those perky long walks
The exact moment
I envisioned us
Brewing happy shocks
Your hand stroking
my hair locks
This beautiful loving
Even the lovebird mocks
Sitting in the dark
At the back of the library
You read me poetry
About love, sin
And redemption
Such a scenery
All this echoing,
Making me nauseous
Sitting up on the roof top
In the crack of dawn
Finding myself amnesiac
Holding the daily almanac
I read my life summary
And how I hallucinated you
And our unreal history.


— The End —