Poetry: Show Me the Light

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a poet. Actually, I take that back…I don’t consider myself a poet (partially because I don’t believe I am skilled enough to claim that honor), but that doesn’t mean I can’t ABSOLUTELY fall in love with the legato flourishes and poignant movements of poetry. In more ways than one, poetry intrigues me far more than prose ever will, and sometimes, I try. And sometimes, I fail, like we all do, but I try anyways because that’s the only way we learn. Now before I digress and preach ad infinitum, here is “Show Me the Light,” which I wrote in roughly five minutes (which means I’ll probably discover a billion mistakes within the next two days). Enjoy!

There are fish in Mexico
That forgot to leave a trail of crumbs
And found themselves surrounded
By darkness
In the cavernous mouth of
Death.

Shadows engulfed them
In endless night,
Wrapped their heads with black cloth,
Suffocating
Strangling
Smothering
Them.
Destroying them,
Chipping away at their souls
With the false hope of light
Of life.

But they didn’t die.

No
No, no

They survived,
Thrived
Adapted
To death’s plans.

But the perpetual night
Was vindictive
And mutilated their bodies
Twisting their physical state into
Shells of hometown glory, prideful pasts

Blinding, stealing their eyes
“With survival they became hideous”
But they wondered silently
Staring into a void of nothingness
They wondered, pondered
Stuck in reveries forged from
Hope and tears and blood

They thought
If a ray of light were to enter their lives
A single ray

Would it brighten their faces?
Would it warm their hearts?
Would it restore their beauty?
Their life?

Or

Would they fight over the light?
Fight over the chance
To stand in the sun
Bask in its warmth
Spread sunshine over their skin
Like ointment over scars

Would they spread their wings
And fly away with the thought of
Change?

With the thought that the world
Is capable
Of mercy,
Of love.

The fish in Mexico
Remind me
That even if the body falters,
With blinded eyes and broken feet,
With deafened ears and cracked skin,
With open wounds and open hearts,
And the mind fails
The spirit will forge ahead,
And rise
Until ladies become lords
And lambs become lions.

The Mexican tetra
Lives in the dark
Hides from the past
And I wonder
Would I gravitate to the warmth
Of light?
Would I become
Less hideous
If you show me the light?

Hearts and Kisses,
Shouryaman Saha

Inspired by Season 2 of Blacklist, Episode Nine.

P.S. I might return to the Mexican tetra for future pieces (both prose and poetry), so stay tuned!! 🙂

Creative Fiction: Raindrops

Dear Blog Buddies:

This is a tiny portion from a creative writing piece I’ve been working on that can also (kind of) function as a standalone piece, so here it is: Raindrops. Keep in mind, this is still a rough draft, so sorry if it’s not above par yet! Hope you enjoy and feel free to leave any comments!

P.S. in case you were wondering, the the grammatical mistakes and lowercase letters are there on purpose 😛

i think about raindrops sometimes.

i think about how they fall to an uncertain end, tripping and stumbling over each other, breaking their bones. how they cling to the warmth of fingertips pressed against windows, shivering and quivering and holding onto heaven with pathetic desperation, teeth chattering hands trembling legs bruising heart faltering tears falling. how they lose their grip and shatter on the pavement into a million little pieces. how they glide down the glass, falling apart like hearts until they are nothing, until they are dead. how no one celebrates their lives, remembers their deaths. how they hide the tears of faceless hopeless restless breathless lifeless women who choke on smoke and live in the haze, washing away their pain and fear and mascara like the pull of the ocean at high tide, sullying themselves during the feat. how they knock on doors with the broken hope that they will open like the wrinkled sky during a storm. how the clouds drop them like coins in the dark, just to watch them fall, hear them break.

I think about how I am rain.

Best Regards,
Shouryaman

Review: Under the Never Sky

I wrote this review roughly two and a half years ago for self-examination purposes (flashback to thirteen year old Shouryaman), and I’m finally releasing it to the world in all of its literary glory. Frankly, it’s the first legitimate book review I wrote, and I thought I would pay homage to the days I didn’t feel like the sky was going to fall. Without further adieu, voila:

Book-1-Cover-under-the-never-sky-30735723-331-500

“Exiled from her home, the enclosed city of Reverie, Aria knows her chances of surviving in the outer wasteland—known as The Death Shop—are slim. Then Aria meets an Outsider named Perry. He’s wild—a savage—and her only hope of staying alive. A hunter for his tribe in a merciless landscape, Perry views Aria as sheltered and fragile—everything he would expect from a Dweller. But he needs Aria’s help too; she alone holds the key to his redemption.

In alternating chapters told in Aria’s and Perry’s voices, Under the Never Sky subtly and powerfully captures the evolving relationship between these characters and sweeps readers away to a harsh but often beautiful world. Continuing with Through the Ever Night and concluding with Into the Still Blue, the Under the Never Sky trilogy has already been embraced by readers in twenty-six countries and been optioned for film by Warner Bros.”

Honestly, I’m slightly disappointed. Just slightly. Not because of the novel’s storyline (which was certainly distinct from the YA dystopian fiction slush pile) or characters, but rather because it has so much potential! The main issue I found with Under the Never Sky was its lethargic pace in the middle of the book, which continually dragged through shallow waters of lifeless scenes without even a sign of treasure gold, perhaps with the singular exception of Aria and Peregrine’s encounter with the Croven (and subsequent rendezvous with Marron). It took me FOREVER to finish, and I found myself struggling to flip the pages. Moreover, I thought Aria and Perry’s romance was clichéd, rushed (I felt like they hated each other one second, and the next, they were making out in a tree house), and somewhat demeaning to Aria’s admirable qualities, specifically her self-determination and independence.

However, in no way does Under the Never Sky’s pace or clichés undermine the originality and eloquence of Rossi’s storytelling, which demonstrates a masterful grasp of plot, diction and syntax that unfortunately only sporadically provide staccato, yet evocative, bursts of exhilaration. Rossi’s prose is ornate and elaborate, grounding her worldbuilding and characterization, but not overly florid, establishing a relatively “golden mean” that I absolutely adored, especially considering her previous career as an oil painter. Furthermore, Rossi’s characters are three-dimensional and complex with striking emotional depth, particularly Peregrine, whose strength of character is merely amplified by his manifest flaws and mounting struggles. The underlying message of the effects of political nepotism, governmental corruption, and technological dependence were equally refreshing and offbeat. Oh, and let’s not forget the dual perspectives! Frankly, these are often blatantly nauseating, but I thoroughly appreciated Rossi’s truly seamless switch between Aria and Perry’s (relatively) engaging voices.

All in all, I rate it a 3.5 (or maybe 4…I’m clearly bipolar) stars out of 5, but it definitely has the potential of a 5 star novel. Rossi unravels the grave realities of corruption, environmental degradation, and technological innovation with a steady and sure hand. Poised, resonating, and invigorating, Under the Never Sky is (fairly) memorable and (essentially) lives up to the hype.

Favorite Quote: “If there was no fear, how could there be comfort? Or courage?” – Aria

Favorite Fangirl Moment: When I recognized Rossi’s pure brilliance in naming Aria’s fictional world, “Reverie.” (Not really a fangirl moment, but you get the idea…right?)

Favorite Character: Cinder (let’s be real here: Cinder is epic)

Favorite Scene: the first scene, wherein Soren discovers the unparalleled exaltation of arson. Sigh.

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