Devanshi Khetarpal

If you scratch my soul,
You will get scraps of Jane Austen.

If you scratch scraps of Jane Austen,
You will get attain the traits of a raconteur.
...

Twinning
Times are
Brimming.
Coffee sinks.
...

The tenebrous tiring tipsy night strutted away,
As the sun tarried to commence its dynamic day.
A bluish beam lingered in the air,
But something amidst the bluish beam,
...

When you pick your nose
And pull the booger out,
Which is slimy, sticky and black,
I feel awful. I can't feel more pain
...

Paws,
Firm on
The ground.

Eyes,
...

The wind in the breeze is like
Life within a sea wave,
Tea within a cup,
Dreams within sweet slumber.
...

If you can see sanguinity
When the pages are rinsed in ink,
When happiness is replaced with bereavement,
When the world hollers in reverberating pangs,
...

That night, my eyes were immersed in sea,
My legs were sprained in a pool of blood,
Albeit my wishing to be anew and free
And refresh myself in elixir flood.
...

On a starry night as I watch the moon unfold,
And the stars wake up from slumber deep,
I wonder whether such sights were oft for me to behold,
But such bliss and tranquility is hard to keep.
...

My gaberdine hung on the wall,
On the rusted hook
That I brought forth from your abode
At midnight.
...

Through a draped sight
Green trees look like
A gargantuan boulder hanging in air.
...

When the campanile roars
It is time for me to rouse.
It is time for me to make my bed.
It is time for me to get drenched in the shower.
...

Polished shoes
Are grass blades fomented with dew,
A mirror reflection of you,
A cloud etched upon the sky,
...

When ideas run away,
When the pen can't write any faster,
When the inked pages of books fade away,
When the colours become dolorous,
...

The strings of my guitar are like
Your hair entangled in mine,
Your skin amalgamated in my heart,
The rays of sun touching the earth.
...

When the sun's rays benight,
And the world strolls into slumber,
I wonder whether my clothes play the banter,
The dandle board motions in disequilibrium,
...

Take the words, the books, the ink,
Infuse love, emotion, thought, passion,
Stir with power, endurance, pain,
Don't let it become raw in time.
...

Entered waves and greetings vile
As thee trod upon the aisle
And muttered profane in thy mind
As thee got ready for chop and grind.
...

I'm fourteen and my hair are grey.
I won't do a thing to them, come what may.
What difference does it make to you?
People, it's nothing but a white strand or two.
...

I agree it smells,
And the wind propels
The squalor upon my face
And the soot refuses to efface.
...