Aparna Bisht
Poet · Uttarakhand · India
If you gaze long enough, everything becomes art.
A writing journey
I started writing during school years - poems, short paragraphs and personal diary. Then I moved away from home and writing became the one thing that kept me connected to homely feelings. Now I write since it feels like a personal style to lay off the extra weight of adulting and anxious thoughts.
Published writing
Khansama
With such countable resources it was a simple life,
No game called Comparison, no spiders to please.
I think about the khansama a lot these days,
His house made warm by the sun and cool by the breeze.
All that he had to do monthly was to climb down the ladder and collect his pension.
Are the hills calling
The wintry purple dances with the pink,
The sun’s last rays sweep across the hill tops,
With shivers running down to the toe tips like electricity,
The hilly folks go about their chores with hair sprouting from goosebumps.
City birds
On seeing everyone around, the bird also got some fake fur,
Weaving it as a beautiful plume, it brought great attention to her.
Her pimples were no longer seen, and the tan was also brushed under makeup.
She was also taught the suitable manners and the gentle feminine chirp.
The fall of a muse
Topsy-turvy in amniotic fluids,
Slowly amassing the strength to break free,
We are born with our heads first out,
The world turned upside down looks like the wrong route.
The choices we make
Topsy-turvy in amniotic fluids,
Slowly amassing the strength to break free,
We are born with our heads first out,
The world turned upside down looks like the wrong route.