carmina mea

To those who write Sad Poems So how is the morose poets’ community Hope they’re doing well, Fighting sharks with pens, Or wandering in the dungeons of hell. Writing something cheesy, or corny, or mad, Depending on their current mood elevation level of sad. I’d say look at the bright side, Don’t think about bad things what life has taken doesn't matter, Think about what it brings, I'd again say look at the bright side, and don't torment yourself with petty thoughts. But to be honest, Anger is pretty bright too, And so is grief Like the sunset hue. Grief - it’s strong too, like the paper its drawn to, Which now, is an “elegy.” At least it’s honest, like a toddler, unsullied by duplicity. But are there any other ways? Because being honest is important too. Some may say, “you can’t lie If you never speak” But is it true? Is it the right way? Right or not I’d say is epistemic. But I can tell you The important thing in all this Is no matter what; BE YOURSELF. ~A Singh backstory: ...

The Diary Poem The Earth receives the Sun's flame, Energy is transformed but to what name? Does it change to something new, A final form we never knew? There's a pattern in stacked numbers, If you stare at them for long enough; And song and dance are just expressions, May or may not make sense-but are real. What if I tell you teleportation is possible? Matter to waves, waves to matter, Or make a wormhole like a crater, By throwing energy into nothing... I've got some business ideas too: A pet for a day, or grah udyog, Ideas still written in a diary That one day might break the market. Rule not the people, but the tide, Divide into channels, let rivers glide, For when we divide, energy is too And there goes the disaster: poof and woo. There are some poems too - the diary is big, Admiring nature, or when nature is you, Articles of retrospection where thinking is all I did, Or some information... which I don't know why there is. ~AS, 2025 backstory: I maintain three diarie...

Things to know about Sand why do you have to make everything poetic? why do you have to romanticize? ok let’s talk about something simple, without connecting it to people. And now we’re talking about sand, and there is so much we can talk about.... thousands of beaches, and so many deserts, around septillion grains, (but the stars are a still lot more) time slipping like grains of sand through our hands, or sand rushing through the hourglasses in shelves or stands. One day I’ll try that Turkish sand coffee, and and you know sandblasting is a thing, is happiness really sand-castles? or maybe let’s not talk about that, I'll try, and for once, I'll just stay on the facts, but you know, of all these things what really touched me was when Anakin said, “I don’t like sand, its coarse, rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere.” ~AS, 2025 backstory: I wrote this poem commenting on myself, sometimes I wonder why I have to overthink or think of scenarios or romanticise simple moments ...

  Mr. Ackerman "It’s fuchsia, not pink— remember this, you’ll need it." shouted her wife as he left to the new-old sunshine market Mr. Ackerman might not distinguish colors, but well, he can do men. His ability to judge people with just one glance is why we think he’s a spy. But his attitude’s the reason people see him and wave him bye. Now, Mr. Ackerman isn’t a bad man— in fact, he works in charity. Alternate days, Sundays off, 6 p.m. at St. Clariti. He’s a man of his sentences, he rarely speaks words, and when he does, he keeps talking, until Mr. Checker is fed up and his mouth is physically plugged. Some say he’s lovely, others say he’s eerie. But he always does his work on time and that's what keeps him free! ~AS, 2025 background: Its me trying to compose a character sketch, I chose the name randomly but apparently he's also a character from Attack on Titan... but we're not talking about him ok? Lol

These are some of my poems, new poems will be uploaded every once in a while :) Am I a poet? No. But do I write poems? Yes-and I love it. (doesn't mean I'm very good at it :P) Sometimes I write when a beautiful line strikes my mind, and sometimes when emotions take over the logical brain. In the bigger picture, I don’t write because I already create something amazing. I write because, if I keep writing, one day I surely will. For if you keep waiting to write the perfect poem, you may never get close. But if you keep writing, one of your poems just might feel perfect ✨ the name by the way, ocarminamea = oh carmina mea, which means oh my poems in latin, a simple word play hehe...

निस्तब्धता कभी देखी है उस चेहरे की मुस्कान? वही लड़का जिसने दुकान को घर, और पुल के नीचे की उस दुनिया को मानो अपना ननिहाल समझ लिया हो। कभी दो क़दम थम, कुछ पल रुक कर इस दुनिया में बसी दुनियाओं को देखो, सोचो — वो छुटकी अपनी माँ से क्या कहती होगी? "कहाँ गया वो आदमी, जिसका पैर टूटा था? यहीं तो बैठा करता था, इस पुल के नीचे..." या वो लड़की, जो पंद्रह मिनट रुककर ही सही, पर पाँच रुपये बचाने बस से घर जाती है। अपने में खोया, भीड़ के बीच भी अकेला है इंसान, मानो भाग रहा हो — इस दुनिया से, या फिर ख़ुद से... पर दूर नहीं हो अभी भी — बस आँखें खोलो, अब भी यहीं हैं हम, तुम और ये संसार। वो आदमी भी कहीं गया नहीं था — अस्पताल से प्लास्टर बंधवा आया अखिरकार। कब तक भागोगे, और कहाँ जाओगे? थम जाओ, सुन लो मेरी पुकार... ~AS, 2025

अनुभूति एक परिंदा था बड़े सपने थे उसके एक बार पंख फैला बस उड़ना चाहता था नीले गगन में। नहीं, बात नहीं कर रहा मैं उसके टूटे सपनों की, और न ही है ये कविता आपके और परिंदे के जीवन की उपमा की। क्यों ही बात करें उसकी जो न मिला, और जो मिल गया, सो उसकी बात क्यों करें। और भी है बहुत कुछ सपनों के परे  सपनों के परे है ये सपनों-सी दुनिया। हाथ बढ़ा छू लो इन तारों को, हाँ, समाएंगे नहीं ये तुम्हारे हाथ में — पर कोशिश करना, और इसी अनुभूति के बीच का अहसास ही तो है — "ज़िंदगी"। ~AS, 2025

Oh dear friendly neighbour...  Oh dear friendly neighbour who lives across the street, I can see you while I’m studying through the window, sitting in my seat. Walking on the roof, talking to your friends for hours  Or when you’re dancing, enjoying the rain Oh you're real, you breath! I see you, you know it- when you don’t pick clothes from the lines though it’s raining, or when you’ve left papads on the roof, a storm brewing and there's, no sign of you. What happened to you? Where are you now? I don’t see clothes drying anymore, or you dancing when the rain pours, and you’re not talking to anyone too? There's this vacuum, you not being there anymore- But then again there's the rain, To look at from the window, Oh the smell of the ground filling the room after a fresh rain  but take care wherever you are and I hope you’re doing well, Oh, dear friendly neighbour who lives across the street. ~AS, 2025 backstory: No backstory for this one, its just something I observed.. t...

  Pros and Cons List Every night, me, my diary, and my ten-rupee pen; we draw a line, between what we should and what we can. Pretty looking stars can destroy us, but they’ve got a duty to follow: to show a path, and to be there, no matter what. I like to think they make a pros-and-cons list, just like I do, of whether I should do this, and whether I want to do this. That wanting is stripped,  denuded of emotion, FACTS! laid bare to the logical mind, where it doesn’t matter what I want, or what I like— and once again all that’s left is the compromise you make with yourself. ~AS, 2025 backstory: I can say making a pros and cons list is the best management tool I've learnt in my AI class, whatever you're thinking about, a thing you should do, or something you should buy, a decision you should make, it can help you solve anything in moments. The problem arises when you're making a decision about the matters of the heart, here a small pro might be A LOT bigger than those many c...

Flowers of Glass So I sowed my shining glass marbles, Hoping they’d grow into flowers of glass, Each petal holding a reflection Of the memories of our past. They grew faster than rose or lily or marigold. I shifted them to beds, for they grew bigger Than the little flowerpot could hold. Every morning I carried my watering can, Pouring silver droplets on delicate leaves, Dreaming they’d grow buds and bloom Flowers no man has ever seen. Even though, somewhere deep, I knew Glass cannot grow. Still, the light on the glass was enough For me to go on and, To keep my heart at my cuff. You may think I was too blind to see, But it was quite my choice. For the world looks much more beautiful When your eyes are closed. You’re free To live in the world you’ve made in your mind. And sometimes, A single bloom in your heart Feels better Than an empty field. ~AS, 2025 backstory: Sometimes you may like to stay for a but in your mind, your imagination, your own dreams, for that place is too sweet in con...

  Obsession Ok, so enough of your stories, and enough of my jokes. Now tell me, seriously do you really love me? See, I can answer this simple question. The thing is... I don't know. Even though there's something, I know one thing for sure: It's not you, but the idea of us that I not only love, but dream of every night. And... it’s not just counting stars, its singing together, dancing, or a lovely fight, eating together or watching Star Wars, or even flying a kite! But we never talk a lot, we barely know each other and I'm not saying our love is doomed even before it starts... All I want from you at this moment is you, your warmth, and your time. ~AS, 2025 backstory: So I was watching a show, and I was shipping two people. I don't usually do that... it was something new for me too. I wanted this pair of people to end up as a couple... but ahh, the show took a different turn. That's when I took the reins and wrote my own story, sprinkled some of my own perspecti...

  With Her Memories She loved the colour blue, She said it reminded her of Manali's sky in hue, And I don't think I'll be able to forget that Even though its been months now we're through And do I really want to forget her favourite songs, favourite band? The paintings she used to send me or that she loved Harry Potter and its magical wand... Yeah she was a Potter Head And kinda kinda smart too I liked her flaws too Honestly there were none But that was no love that kept us together If it was anything between us, It was magic that'll last forever... ~AS, 2024 backstory: Although I think the poem is kind of self - explanatory, it was indeed written on-about someone, remembering the moments from past, when the writer was missing this one person... but also accepts their departure...

Reflections  A broken heart, or someone won, A hundred cheers, a thousand weeps, Both are not far from each other, Just reflections of what they feel deep. Both loved something too bad, One failed and one got that in the end, Praise the victor if you can, But don't console the other man, For he's not crying that he lost, But that his efforts bore no cost. ~AS, 2024 backstory: It was just something that made sense to me, after obviously I lost and found myself among friends who were consoling me, they were absolutely doing something that any other normal person would do, it wasn't really their fault, but I didn't want any consolation. I just wanted some time alone to think about it, I don't really know... but that's how life sometimes is I guess :)

Blue Again I want the clouds to rain, rain till they lose every drop, every hope, every tear, they've ever had. I want them to rain like the great flood might not we survive, but in the end, when it ends, a blue bright sky is all I want. ~ AS, 2023 backstory: The day I wrote this poem, I was feeling frustrated about how some events went down, and I couldn't have done anything differently so that I would've landed on a different outcome, guess that's helplessness for you. I wanted to clean the slate and rewrite the story but guess it just isn't possible... and in the end, you just have to let it go, and words were all that were left of this chain of incidents.

You I was never sad, But a smile comes when you appear, Like a park, where children play, Their laughter in the air. I can become the joker, I can become the circus, If you're by my side, I don't care 'bout the people... ~AS, 2023 backstory: Its the first poem I ever wrote, I was walking through a road where I saw a father making faces and dancing in a manner which most would think of as weird, but it was funny enough to make his daughter laugh which gave me this line "I can become the joker, I can become the circus... if you're by my side I don't care bout the people...."