Winter x Spring Poems


Art by Shreya Parasrampuria

Winter by Deepshikha Gangwar


my breath is visible in front of me like

a dying man's wish,

impossibly fragile to fulfil,

open windows look at plum blossoms,

frosted petals fall only to be crushed and buried under the white


i sit in our doorway, clutching tea in weakening hands, let me last this winter i pray, just this one, when spring comes, i will depart

but i must not leave you when the lands are barren, the winds are cold and the world is silent

no,


i must not leave you until life comes back, there's days when your tears are bitter on my skin, when you hug me close to your chest and beg, when your voice cracks and all i can do is let you lay your head in my lap

dying man's wish, fragile as a breath

if the universe can grant me anything

let me last till spring



Spring Will Come Again by Minaz Ansari


It stood still,

Bracing itself

In the biting cold...

Its crown scraggly

Naked and disfigured,

Its branches bare

Prickly and shorn,

But its trunk stood strong

Fearless and firm,

And its roots dug in

Determined and deep,

Its core throbbing

With an unflinching faith,

That spring would come again...


Dreams of Spring by Lian Dousel

Heavy is the fog this bitter sunless morn,

Yet still lingers truly on, his manifest warmth. O, false and wicked must it be then now to mourn If heaven’s spared my boy—no warrant for alarm. Motionless he lies beside the firelight,

And around him kindred stand with low heads all. His stillness and his cold dispassion seemed a spite To biding love, so thus within me ire sprawl.

Light without intensifies, yet here within

Gloom becomes an agent of discrimination— In wanting disposition, I condoned my sin

Of faithless dereliction. Had I known, my son! Draw the blinds, I say, and douse the mocking flames; In this shadowed piercing frost leave me to weep And let this venal darkness on me stake its claim—

Forevermore would winter stay my love asleep. Gently then a golden ray impales the blinds,

And orchestrates clement echoes of the songs

My everloving lad would serenade, and binds

My soul to dreams of spring. I’d wait for everlong.



To Master Winter by Khatija Khan


today,

we will read a poem

on how to embrace summer

while winter is weeping on your palanquin


or say,

on how to make a half burnt cake

taste yummier than a perfectly baked one

while the microwave is not working like it should


or say,

on how to paint sunken ships and earn from it,

make it to the bestsellers' line

as if death is worth more than life

while all the unrescued beings are screaming for help


or,

on how to turn wood into furniture

wool into sweater

and hearts into hurricanes


or,

a poem about a girl made of glass

who lived in a steam house

and did whatever the poet wrote


or simply turn the page

don't drink words

that fail to quench your thirst


if you are unable to find the poem you want to read

write the poem you want to read


~the poem you want to read


Winter's Resolve by Anirudh Raghavan

When she reached the absolute limit of tolerance Winter resolved That it was enough Living in the unquestioned reign of spring And summer Winter withered under their many taunts that she is cold unfeeling , icy even Her mere presence is enough to turn the sun from a warm molten ball of gold into a Rocky sugar candy The moon to a papery Kite fluttering in the wind She presented the Dahlias and Dianthuses as proof otherwise To no avail They say the soul's freeze has no cure For comfort she looked to monsoon and his gentle Compassionate patter But much in love with his liquid form keeping safe distance he offered his ritual succor Reduced to only herself embittered winter resolved to metamorphose finally and forever So neither spring nor summer could stand on comparison Finding the fallen embers of the sun She swallowed them whole Hoping to radiate with an Amplified warmth But instead she found herself aflame Her desire consuming her From within reduced to a grey ash heap From the cold To the cold she returned Days later deep within the lifeless mass A gulmohur tree found root and nourished by Winter's decay The tree each year with unfailing routine sets itself ablaze Reminding both Summer and spring Of Winter's fateful resolve


About the poets:

  • Deepshikha is an amateur poet from a small town in India. She draws her inspiration from poets like Pat Parker and Audre Lorde hoping to infuse her writing with a similar sense of vivid emotions, intersectionality and queer themes. On a good day, she can be found at the nearest Chai stall, eavesdropping into the lives of multitudes of interesting people, hidden behind her kullad. You can find her on Instagram @auctricis

  • Khatija is seventeen. She writes and dreams. You can find her work on Instagram @sparksofher.

  • Anirudh Raghavan is trained in sociology and is an independent researcher of public health and medicine. He has taught at Hindu College and Ashoka University. His haikus and senryus have appeared in Modern Haiku, Frogpond and Prune Juice. He can be reached on anirudhraghavan16@gmail.com

  • An architect and Urban Designer, teacher and explorer, Minaz Ansari designs, researches, mentors and writes. A published author, Minaz is fascinated by the magic of words and looks at writing as her connection to the universe. An incurable optimist, Minaz looks at her various interests as a means to create a kinder world. Her writing can be found here and here.

  • Lian Dousel is a 29-year-old writing enthusiast with a bachelor's degree and imposter syndrome. He currently lives in the nostalgia-filled spaces between Delhi and his hometown Lamka, taking his work and his words with him wherever he goes. One of his short stories, 'Numbered Days', has been published by Out of Print magazine, and you can find most of his other—non-deleted—prose and poetry on his blog Gutter Galley.

About the artist:

I am a Textile Designer and Visual Artist from Jaipur, India. My work tends to draw from my surroundings, Indian aesthetics and craft cultures. I create self-initiated textile and illustrated art projects, often using mixed media. This is something that developed when I explored the ubiquitous nature of textiles and how they have remained neglected, almost invisible in the important and broader narrative of human history. I want people to appreciate the simple and small things in life, which we often become oblivious to and take for granted. Busy market scenes, vendors, old and textured walls, textiles and food I eat are amongst my favorite things to draw.’


I am currently working as a Textile Designer at Raw Mango, Delhi, exploring the meaning and role of textiles in human cultures.


Find my work at www.shreyaparasrampuria.com or on Instagram @shreyaparasrampuria

 

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