Poems and Poetry

Ananya Dhawan

Voodoo Doll | A Poem by Ananya Dhawan and Sanchit Goel

She’s darkened art,
an almost human (one might say),
a conjurer of charms so terrific,
of love and hate
and magic, prolific.

With pins and needles
Sticking out of her heart
She is hypnotizing humanity
right from the start.
A spiritual figure for luck and charm,
if fitly used, she means no harm.
I marvel at her sinister décor,
a bald head and eyes that lure

Is she the one to avenge wrong doers?
Or is she the one being avenged for?
With soothing colors that killed her soul,
Pulling everything around like a warm hole.
The doll that makes little ones smile,
Is all set to cause fear in their eyes.

If what they say is actually true,
Voodoo is her thing,
The doll is just for fools.
Then maybe we should burn her,
Put her in a ball of fire,
While her colors turn to ash,
We might just see her true desires.


A Phantasma | A Poem by Ananya Dhawan

I swam across seas
blinded by thrill,
I knew no one.
When the waves rose
to touch the shore
I rose too,
the apprehension within me
solid to the touch.

I flew across skies
Managing to avoid
those voiceless shrieks,
the vivid fears,
the piercing pulls of gravity.

I ran across mountains,
braving the days
braving the nights
and everything in between.

I was shaken from a stupor,
The blindfold removed
I felt the transition
I felt me
The phantasma was real…


Dewy Shadows | A Poem by Ananya Dhawan

Master folks
the black apparitions
hover unseen
in a neutral mind.

I philosophize
in seamless disguise
about the dark creatures
the moist shadows.

The perfect wings
covered
with drops of nightly dew,
the faces embellished
with stony eyes.

An impeccable spell
of black and white
divides a blank mind;
exhibits the impressionable beasts.

And the intimate darkness dissipates.

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The Scimitar | A Poem by Ananya Dhawan

Am I as potent,
as perfect,
as the knight who holds me
in an ungenerous grip?

Or am I mere speck
worthy of disdain
worthy nonetheless,
of
defeating,
slaying
‘expiring’
lives
in never ending battles?

Or am I slick beauty,
nonchalantly
winning
days and nights,
skies and oceans,
curls and pearls,
for my palace royals?

What if I am,
an entity inanimate –
plain, but playing
slain, yet slaying
hearts
minds
souls?

Evilly shining,
in universal battlefields…

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The (Thinking) Train | A Poem by Ananya Dhawan

An artsy piece of drama
yet potent enough
to turn the cards
against a solid soul.

That abstract vision
transcends
into a reality-concrete.
The once, only imagined
manifests
into an unshrinking truth.

Those thoughts, so secure
free themselves,
convert
into mindlessness,
too hard to grasp
easy to slip.

And you,
in a drunken stupor
succumb to the
in-sensibilities.
The anti
the pro
solely merge…

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The Ingratiating Pain | A Poem by Ananya Dhawan

In the midst of the storm
he stopped,
paused,
wondered,
drank in realizations
wept,
then strode on.

The whirlwind
jarred his senses,
tore his soul
hammered his mind,
gnawed at his thoughts.
His mind froze,
his form quivered
he shrunk and shivered
with the ingratiating pain.

It won him over
He caught the plague
that palled him
and suffering that he was,
he succumbed to the distress.

Though his thoughts awakened
his chaotic self
refused to budge
pulling him back
bit by bit
wanting to swallow him
to drown him
into the fog,
into the fire,
into the pool of blunt ichor.