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Ishita Agarwal Poem
A tiny cottage holding 'unaccepted'
Led my feet driving inside.
And old man, unhinged and quiet,
Looked at mine with his tiny eyes.
This man silently hollow, said
Nothing but conversed clearly.
Through his calm and stance,
He welcomed my breathless heart.
His stare wasn't the one smiling,
Like those offered to me around.
In his uncanny, unwelcoming blue,
He had given me a standable ground.
His brown head lined with grooves,
Signaled at me I needed to stay.
The way I came driving inside,
My hue wished not to get away.
" you unaccept this world for it
Pains you and pricks your
Wounds without no break."
Said a voice in shivers of age.
" but you unaccept yourself
For you entered through such
A door people seldom look at.
What is it ? Your soul now say."
" had you any voice to sell
I would let my soul speak.
Had the world been noiseless
Someone atleast could hear me."
He did introduce me a deathbed,
Portalised to a shift of reality.
It seemed not the peice to puzzle,
In my mere mourn for remedy.
In the cottage I sat like home.
Out of the malicious maze,
Away from a mythical moon,
Stood my heart in the midst boon.
Copyright © Ishita Agarwal | Year Posted 2025
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Ishita Agarwal Poem
Patterning in, bathe in silhouettes of panes,
Vicinate high and low, the yellow gold.
Scrupulating in curtains' gleaming gold,
Freeze the sun in infinitum on floor.
Cold, not so cold, stir the winds - The soul.
Breathe in, my eyes the winds of Oxford.
Freeze, cease to sprint, the time in vicinity
A hop, skip and jump plunge well, to hardcore.
Silences of the grandest melodies, subtle down
There - where is the scholarly cloak inside,
Where - there is a scholar hidden in asylum,
Gleams my dreams in great coat of Oxford.
Copyright © Ishita Agarwal | Year Posted 2025
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Ishita Agarwal Poem
To this Mourning idle day,
To the silence of this uncertain night;
I offer the quenched melody
shrieking boastful, in silence of gloom.
In the sombre piano, Chopin
upheaves restlessness crying in fright.
This worklessness pinches deep
the needles, of loneliness wringing again.
An upbeat mourn yearn shows
to reach the absent overwhelmed be.
Here reaches out there to then,
where the answer would approach back.
Sucked back into vacuum black,
Away from the light heavier than dark,
Bleeding in red rose covered
in throes of pain, and beauty of blood.
Leaving behind or being left
behind the curtains of worldliness,
Grounded set her eyes silently
Breathing among the needles of needlessness.
Copyright © Ishita Agarwal | Year Posted 2025
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