Shreya
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Read, Readjoice, Repeat
Shreya
Read MoreWith love, Shreya
Read MoreHope: A Poem
Read MoreA new poem, The Visitor.
Read MoreWhen I Make Space to Pause by Shreya Manna So. When I make space to pause, I listen. The bones at the base of my neck are instruments, Clicking and clacking and croaking under the weight of an uneasy head. My feet oscillate. Drumsticks on a d-d-d-d-drum roll. The mind scans and measures each line…
Read MoreI’m in a new apprenticeship – Not any intellectual shit, Reading ‘how to be a human’ lit: so flip to page 1, where I find it hard, really no way I can discard, this overconfidence in my inferiority. Too many syllables, (may not be believable) but it’s true. I cannot see the “awesome kid” inside…
Read MoreA poem about water-forms.
Read MoreHello again, I’m back with (more) attempts at writing poetry and an update about starting Hilary Term (i.e. Term 2) at Oxford. Since I’ve been gone, I’ve been writing away for our weekly essays about everything including the lives of saints in Old English up until the modernist experiments of T.S. Eliot. I’ve taken up…
Read MoreTrees spilling with boughs of white flowers Like bright eyes, shrouded in the waxy palms of leaves I watch some fall, stolen by the breeze, I watch them fall (in love). Petals unfurling, they embrace the dusk with open arms, sprinkling the earth. Hush. Listen to them land: tiny, soft blankets for unseen slumbering fairies.…
Read MoreI wrote this poem in light of the events in the news recently that have made the word ‘home’ a politically charged one, and also as a memory of my personal experiences that put into question what home might be.
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