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Yashkrit Ray Jul 12
Infallible. Imperishable.
Unwavering. Immutable.
Neither subjected to limitations,
Nor to transformations.
Death and decay -
None of them in your way.
The permanence of the divine
And the permanence of the stability.
Amidst the ever-changing world,
There is unchanging eternal reality.
There's an eternal reality.
Yashkrit Ray Jul 11
You, I and we all
Sleep every night with a hope
To wake up next day
That's the hope we all hold. That's the common thing among us - to live.
Yashkrit Ray Jul 11
Confused and shot up
Anesthesia injected
Hallucinations
Yashkrit Ray Jul 11
I woke up again
And the same sun, moon and sky
But still feels different
For "Our Time Capsule - The 21st Century".
Yashkrit Ray Jul 10
An Open Invitation to All Poets on Hello Poetry

Dear poets,

I’m starting a collaborative writing project called “Our Time Capsule — The 21st Century.”
It’s a collective space where we, as writers of this era, can capture what life feels like right now—through poems, reflections, metaphors, and symbols.

This is not just about politics or technology or trends.
It’s about how it feels to be alive in this century:
The loneliness and the love,
The silence behind the screens,
The beauty, the fear, the ordinary days,
The things we wish the future would understand about us.

You’re warmly invited to join. Write in your own style—haiku, free verse, letters, experimental forms, anything. Just tag your work with:

#OurTimeCapsule
(or mention the project name in the notes)

Let’s create a time capsule made of words, one poem at a time.
Someday, someone may read what we write today and understand our century—not from textbooks, but from our hearts.

If this resonates with you, join in. I’ll be posting mine soon.

— Yashkrit Ray
"Our Time Capsule — The 21st Century"
A collaborative writing project. Join in with your own words.
Yashkrit Ray Jun 25
Ink
Not just a fluid,
I am ink — the druid,
Shaping your ideas in a blink.
In depth of papers, I sink.

Not just a physical thing,
An end to your thoughts — I bring.
Not made to drink,
I am the almighty ink.

I flow on the paper,
With your thoughts — I caper.
Like the roots of a tree,
Even the history is written with me.

Not just a black fluid,
From the sac of a squid.
Not made to drink,
I am the almighty ink.
A materialistic thing that is not just materialistic. Here's a humorous poem on ink.
Yashkrit Ray Jun 18
Falling like crystals,
Raindrops from the sky.
Unfurled like a blanket,
Black clouds seem to cry.

And my room is filled
With earthy scent of soil and clay.
It evokes all my memories
And nostalgia all the day.

Joined by the dancing peacock,
It quenches the thirst of flower.
Crying all the way,
Black clouds loose all their water.
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