Poetry: The Writer, by Mariam Vaid

 She has a bookshelf for a heart,

And ink runs through her veins,

She'll write a story about you,

With the typewriter in her brain,

Her bookshelf's getting crowded,

With all the stories she's penned,

Sometimes people open the books,

But close them before the end,

There's one book at the very corner,

It sits there and collects dust,

The title is written in cursive,

"The One Who Broke My Trust."

Some books she's scared to open,

Others she doesn't close,

Stories about people she's met,

Stretched out in endless rows,

 

Some people just have a paragraph,

Others held the main part,

Millions of inky footprints,

They left in the bookshelf of her heart,

 

People wonder why she writes books,

About people she once knew,

Because one day she hopes to find someone,

Who'd write about her too. 

Painting: Space Envision, by Afia Faiza Shopno

 

Space is unseen to many in real life. Outer space is not completely empty. It can be very fantastical, if we assume: "Envision, create and believe in your own space, and the envision will form around you." This painting is an imaginative depiction. "Imagination is more important than knowledge, knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world."

Poetry: Impurity, by Jaya Sudhakar

i  don't  pray  anymore

what  with  the

 pink  sugar  that  stains  my  teeth

the  nettles  that  grow

out  of  my  scalp

and  the  acetone  in  my  lungs.

i  don’t  dare  

wear  the  dress  of  a  bride

while  malice  and  contempt

perfume  my  neck

and  my  skin  is  a  vessel

 for  rotten  residue.

i  don’t  pray  anymore,

 for  i  don't  want  any  god  of  mine

to  sip 

 from  a  stained  cup.

Painting: Closed Window, by Afia Faiza Shopno

 

Closed windows, unopened stories, life is still bright through the translucent shades because forgiveness is like this: a room can be dank cause you have closed the windows, you've closed the curtains. But the sun is still shining outside, and the air is fresh outside. In order to get that fresh air, you have to get up and open the windows and draw the curtains apart. This painting describes all of the above.