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Reality/ Nature Poems

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Borders of Humanity

Perspective of Hungry Eyes

The Horse in The Merry Go Round

Seeing like a Feminist

Migrant Walkers

The Smell of Home

Eventide (Haiku)

How Stories are Shaped?

Meaning (Haiku)

The Dead Poet & Other Stories

An Ode to Nature

The Mountain Reminds Me of You

The Mountains Called

The Spirit of Faith

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Abhaya Shakti

The city was dark even in the shimmering lights, Almost like it was evening at midday. The rain poured incessantly. Like someone cried from the skies above. She watched the crowd, Amidst the cloud and downpour, Looking frantic in joy Cheering for an idol That was quite a lookalike. They chanted Mantras, Offered the best of fruits Paid their respects, hands folded Yet she sighed, unimpressed. She turned her back to the crowd, Walked away from the light, Into the darkest alley Of a city that barely survives. Hungry eyes asking for help, Homes washed away, identity at stake. A teardrop blurred her Kohl-drawn eyes, As she turned again in a corner That led to an end. There stood silhouettes Of tortured souls wailing; Grasping at her, hoping. Young, old, rich, poor, Every soul tormented by touch; She, who is Justice Stood shocked and helpless at first; Anger and agony aligned, As She knelt before them Weeping in despair, asking questions, Could she help those who...

The Silence Screams

The silence is killing me Is not an expression For some of us. Silence is a curse A reminder of demons that chase us Voices in our head, sins and shame We drown in the noise of the world. We need headphones in a crowd Playing music that keeps us warm Amidst cold judgemental stares. We need stories to be told to us Like when we were children To fall asleep to. Silence bothers us Like noise bothers some people. The beating of the heart, The involuntary breath The thoughts in my head I don't want to face All come haunting me at midnight In the silences And Music works its magic Drowning out everything Questionable and Tragic Drifting me to sleep As if the universe Sings me a lullaby. © Suranya

God Made It This Way

They Say, "God made it this way" My soul questions their notion. It says, "How could He teach you to oppress women? Make a chauvinist society? Who made you address them as He?" He who treated Her as the Ultimate Creator, Adi Shakti. Who really decides the rules here? Burn the women in pyres? For the God I know, breaks the rules himself. He is devastated at Her funeral. Who decides what Limits are? The God I know is Endless within. How long is forever? He is Timeless. How deep should Love be? His knew no bounds beyond Time. How is someone good or bad? He says that there is both in us. What is the balance of life? He teaches us nothing is ideal. My Soul doesn't agree with your façade of society That defies the very God they worship. Maybe I don't fall under your standards of a Devotee. Maybe He is not as Godly to you as to me. But I know in my heart, The society in all its glory is never because "God made it this way." Everything is a deed of Man...

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All poems and written content published on "From the Quill: Poetry and Musings by Suranya" are original works composed by Suranya Sengupta in English, Bengali, and Hindi. These works are created independently, without external influence or assistance. The images featured on this website are generated using artificial intelligence (AI) tools and are not the copyright property of the website owner. Any reproduction, distribution, or copying of the poems or written content, whether in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited by law without the prior written consent of the author. For any inquiries regarding the use of content from this website, please contact the poet.

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