Selected Works of Sharanya Bee from LiteraryVibes (Vol. 1)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

Sharanya lives in Trivandrum, Kerala and is pursuing her bachelor's degree in English literature. She stumbled upon writing poetry after participating in a poetry writing competition held in college and unexpectedly winning a prize in it. Beginning to write for Literary Vibes was the next and recent significant step in her literary journey.

 

 

 

---

 

 

1: BINDI

   (From Edition XXXI of LV, Dated August 30, 2019)

Cold fingers glide over the dusty

diary pages,

Stories, sketches and ruminations

scribbled down in messy cursives

in colour blue varying between dark and light,

The top left corners of alternate

pages jotted down with digits so ancient now,

Once they were brand new days,

young, vibrant and blooming with life,

Now just layers of history

neglected, compressed beneath the

heavy iron sheets of the contemporary..

The days of the past, as light as the paper

where upon it was recorded,

I look at it with eyes blinking,

Envying every mote of dust trapped in between,

Hoping I could be one of them too,

As the journal is closed, my journey

from the lane of memory put an end to,

take a look at my finger tips, the

dust sticking to them in circles,

I press them against the middle of my forehead,

A bindi, with fragments of memories eternal...

 

 

 

---

 

 

2: FERMENTED MEMORIES

    (From Edition XXXII Of LV, Dated September 06, 2019)

 

Those memories are strange now,

Not so clear as before, that

I could see straight through them, or dip

my consciousness in and wade through it for endless hours,

I didn't have to raise my head every now and then gasping for air

They only refreshed the soul, the melody of a forgotten song

The scent of a newly bloomed flower wasping in, planted by unknowns...

They made my barren mind moist, fed their elixir to my veins,

The visions, so soothing to the eyes, long-gone time? I couldn't say,

Never did I know, there were weeds growing in and around, slowly invading through,

I made it out just in time, or they could've pulled me in too...

I watch them spread over the surface, I watch my pool of memories suffocate...

And then they only wither and disappear, the pool beneath made unclear and frothy...

They seperate in fussy layers, too mysterious for me to comprehend...

emitting foul smells that warn me to run away...

They ferment.

 

         ******************

Memories, don't make an abode for stay,

Not meant to be dived into,

Not meant to be sunk beneath,

Memories, only stay beautiful when viewed from far away...

 

 

 

---

 

 

3: ENCHANTMENT

   (From Edition XXXV of LV, Dated September 27, 2019)

 

If you could give me your agonies and regrets, one by one

Just as the way they came to you,

I would gather them in cupped palms, dip them in sparkling lake waters,

cleanse them with delicate fibers and

leave them out to dry beneath the scorching sun,

They would expel their tears ,

the heat would forge them rigid and unbreakable,

And once they're purified of all their poor sins,

I'd polish them smooth and sharp with papers of grit and sand,

borrowed from sea-sides of the past,

paint them in colours of black and purple,

scraped out from yesterday's palette of impressions,

I'd then lean over and whisper to them

mystic spells from an age old book of a sorceress,

And coat them with one final gleam of translucent instructions,

I'd string them together through twines of silver promises and finally,

Present them to you.

I'd ask you to wear it around your neck or your wrists,

You see, I've turned your agonies into amulets,

they'll draw you from any harm's way

And perhaps

They'll even keep me at bay

 

 

 

---

 

 

4: EXPULSION

    (From Edition XXXVI Of LV, Dated October 04, 2019)

 

Words that crawl to the depths of an abysmal tunnel,

Words that seep into the pores of streched out skin,

Words tangled amidst silvery cobwebs

spun across yesterdays and days before,

Words smeared upon blades of ceiling fans,

Words that sparkle

as dustlight between the folds of window curtains,

Residues left behind by the tides of a bygone era's breath,

Words, the remnants, that don't belong to stay...

I mould my cognizance in the form of their language,

I promise to weave them to bodies, make them verses and poetry;

With that

I lure the words out,

And swiftly vacuum them away.

 

 

 

---

 

 

5: FIGURES

    (From Edition XLII Of LV, Dated November 15, 2019)

Daunting thoughts take form of ghosts at midnight hour,

They float around in darkness,

white smokes, shapeless clouds

Resonating fear in the chilly air,

They hum in harmony,

with opened eyes you see twirling spirals

 

 Whirlpools that sink you until you're hypnotised,

They glide through your skin, raising hairs,

freezing thoughts,

sending shivers down the spine;

 

They make time stay still,

mute the ticking clock, keep the dark intact

They let you walk, they let you run,

until you circle back to the same place where you had begun,

They mock you silently.

 

They let you pant, they let you faint,

they let you wake up gasping for air,

They let you mistake all of it for a dream,

you feel silly about the fright.

 

You feel the relief,

you are thankful for the light,

you are glad to be alive,

And then you spot the misty figures on your window glass

 

---

 

6: CATASTROPHE

(From Edition XLIIIOf LV, Dated November 22, 2019)

Our voices strike pandemonium;

Spears and arrows hurled in the air

Daggers dripping red, it's a war zone

a verbal match. It isn't about what you or I did anymore;

There is no voice of reason;

Only our worst imaginations for each other

pelted against our insecurities;

While every mistake made in the past wiggles around

like freshly unearthed vermins, multiplying.

Yes, we've dug through the mud of forgiveness

that promised to keep them buried in forever;

We growl at each other like mad dogs,

baring sharp fangs, ready to tear each other down;

We rip off each other's shields of dignity,

"It's a heated argument." Say the neighbours peering out of their doors,

Meanwhile our house is renamed 'Catastrophe'.

 

---

 

7: REASONING WITH PRIDE

(From Edition XLIV Of LV, Dated November 29, 2019)

But drop me down so gently that I don't twist my ankles

or break my toe nails upon this hard ground so cold

I don't remember the feel anymore,

The soles of my feet bereft of their warmth too

Although I must admit, a few steps up in the air was a good place to be in.

Almost too good. Quite addictive I could've made that my abode.

People seem most interesting when viewed from above,

Now they're used to seeing me from below,

I need raised heads.

Only now, why did you have to let me down,

You say your arms grew tired of holding me up so high for so long

but we both know you're stronger than that.

Oh dear pride, why do we have to part ways so soon?

I won't take this betrayal, please continue your act of holding me against this gravity.

I won't survive the fall,

I am too used to this superiority.

Please don't let them, people know that our relationship ended so quickly.

 

---

 

8: UNADAPTABLE

(From Edition XLIX Of LV, Dated January 03, 2020)

 

In search of a treasure chest I've dived into this deep, blue sea

If that could pass as an excuse.

I heard the sea bed's comfortable for imbecile souls like me,

who forget to breathe until skins turn blue,

Bluer than the depths of these waters.

We have eyes that see shipwrecks and carcasses as things of beauty,

I walk on the sea-floor, swim through a whale fall,

I swing on an anchor's edge and rest in its curve,

 

From my closed palms escape schools of fish,

My exasperation leaves as air bubbles perishing at the surface,

Until there's no more left to exhale

I selfishly crawl through a fat rope reaching out for air,

It was wrong to think of the sea as my home

 

I wash upon the land, handful of weeds, headful of excuses

For the imbeciles waiting on the shore

I am sorry my hands are so full,

I am sorry

There's no treasure in them.

 

---

 

9: UNWELCOME GUESTS

(From Edition L of LV, Dated January 10, 2020)

 

Somebody thuds on wood far below

Resultless efforts to breakthrough or carve out,

interrupted beats seeking permission growing impatient,

A faint memory of door knocks to a stubborn mind.

A sundered pigeon feather rolls in to be trapped amidst the furry rug,

the end of a smooth cruise - now an awkward guest unsure if to head back or resist as

hands in a haste throw powder to water, they brew out

scented smoke rising gently above - a ballerina spreading her limbs out to the air,

Only to be slashed down by raging blades of the ceiling fan- they're unwelcome too.

Dispersed fragments of smoke befriend lonely feathers and wooden splinters,

together they seek out home,

They morph your paper towns into timbered castles,

Embellish your tattered jackets to feathered gowns as

the smoke steals the sky's indigo to stain your windows.

 

---

 

10: TO WAIT

(From Edition LI of LV, Dated January 17, 2020)

 

And now we wait

Because anticipation is what we do best

We wait

To see dull faces returning, exhausted

And some thrilled passengers to be lost in it forever -

For better or for worse..?

Expecting one familiar face on his way back with a content smile

 

Every path looks the same now, unidentifiable

For how many miles will this resemblance last,

Lost in the labyrinth of judgements,

Where the quest for guidance only takes one to arms pointed at all directions

-North, South, East and West

Where there is no 'Road not taken' or path less travelled

It is a stampede on every route.

A rush of people forwards and backwards - eager, disappointed

And now my companions have also picked their way and parted

I gladly bid them farewell.

But before I make my call, I wait.

I wait for the one who left

To listen to his tale of adventure along the road once-less travelled.

 

---

 

11: STORY OF A MADE-UP SKY

(From Edition LIV Of LV, Dated February 07, 2020)

 

The window panes are painted yellow

And the glass is stained indigo,

What an odd combination - one might think

But in my imagination, they're marigolds framing the night sky

in which I see no stars or moon

Through which no comets care to pass

The flowers don't complain for twilight,

Like vigilant guards, they only stay and sway possessive of the dusk

Not seeping into each other,

How well they keep the border intact even

as what is only seen in it

is my own visage and hard water stains,

Celestial reflections obeying my astronomy -

To stay or to leave in a happily trapped, dark-blue sky

 

---

 

12: ETCHED

(From Edition LV Of LV, Dated February 14, 2020)

 

The flames in the pit need kindling

About to die down, they seethe to warn me

Who despite the chilling cold, searches in vain for firewood

The last of them just went in

I rip off pages from my life's diary and throw them to the flames,

reluctlantly

They shrink and ashen, but faith keeps me strong

Those words in the paper won't burn away so fast

They crumble and lighten,

Consumed whole by the fire

I begin to doubt their power

But oh, I can say now, almost an eternity later

Never have I lifted my arms again since then

To rekindle

Never have I had to fear if they'd go off

The flames have been burning

A hundred times brighter

Emitting enough heat to keep me in its warmth forever

And everyday I read my life's story etched in the undying fire

 

---

 

13: MUSEUM

(From Edition LVI Of LV, Dated February 21, 2020)

 

What I am used to

Would be the scattered specks of still light studded to the dark sky

Stars that don't blink

The muffled cries of firecrackers far away

Celebrations pelted against silent veils

Thuds of footsteps above the ceiling I fail to track

Rattle of keys and the click of locks

Gusts of winds of arrival and departure

Framed portrait of an ancestor I believe is still alive through it

Abstract patterns on marble floors figuring into strangely familiar faces

Four plain walls, lit and enclosed with

No paintings, no mirrors, no verses to saccade through

What I am used to

Is this museum of my own emptiness

 

---

 

14: MELTED GOLD

(From Edition LVIII Of LV, Dated March 06, 2020)

 

 

Somewhere, sometime, when catastrophe made its way to you

who were formless, covered in dust and coal but still with a soul

When the heat turned unbearable to you, they saw

Your lustre, as you melted, disintegrated,

your outer shine, that could be their gain

And then made their way to you, feigning sympathy, a helping hand,

Turned up the heat with one, and as if gently patting with the other,

Molded you into the shape they wanted,

And then cooled down the temperature, as though comforting

Only to make you cemented to their fancy, an ornament

As you admire yourself in the mirror, with your new shine and shape,

Your soul now almost as hollow as you've been cast to be,

I hope with deep empathy,

May realization make its way to you as well,

And awake your mind to the sad fact that,

You, my dear, have been manipulated like melted gold

 

---