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May 24, 2010

Poet's/Author's Note

I am currently writing two books side by side and I would like to offiliate them so a) I can keep writing them and b) they idea doesn't get busted. I have two stories to juggle because I have continual writer's block, and I get inspiration for one or the other on occasion, so I write whichever one is more appealing to me on a particular day.


I have two novels running: a fantasy one and a modern-day one that I like to classify as philosophy.


Realm of Dead is the working title of my fantasy one. Brief summary: The Labyrinth is the Eden of earth - a network of underground tunnels and chambers imbibed with immortality that prevents it's refugees from aging under it's protection. Gwen of the Duchovnys, born under an Eclipse, is daughter of the new king, who, along with ten royal Welsh families, fled to the Labyrinth post the death of the former King. The godliness of the Labyrinth is marred only by the presence of the Dark Angel, a death-like statue in the middle- the Messenger from Hell. Suspicious occurences shroud the presence of the Dark Angel and each passing day, this Eden turns slowly to something darker, threatening to betray the secret of these families, preserved since before the Plantagenets, to the modern world. Gwen and Emrys of the Silas', her best, most intimate friend, find themselves far too entangled in these matters and attempt to handle their reputation, their far-too-intimate friendship and Gwen's suspicious connection to Death while keeping themselves a secret from the modern era.


Stepmom is the working title for my psychological-philosophical realistic book, though it was originally "Far Too Precious". Brief summary: Panacea Suvari, widowed, is a substitute teacher who finds herself attracted to the Jared Sullivan, divorced father of one of her students. When they decide to get married, she finds a maze of problems in her life, like Chastity, his daughter, a suicidal girl who disapproves of the marriage and shows it but self-mutilation. A battle ensues between Panacea and Chastity, where Panacea tries to assist Chastity get over her suicidal tendencies but the closer she gets, the bloodier Chastity becomes. She loves Jared and won't separate, but she wants to save Chastity, and when an atheist Panacea discovers the  peace of a church, she finds a new insight on Saving her stepdaughter. A nouveau tale of rebellion, faith and finding the honesty of one's emotions.

Copyright © Aishwarya Nagar


I'm interested in writing them and finishing them, then contacting a publishing company on publishing them and I HOPE people will like the books. I'll put up a chapter apiece on here if you ask for it really nicely =)


Ash xx

Dec 22, 2009

Poem # 22 If I'd Scream Loud Enough


A poem I wrote reflecting Leslie's feelings in Ink Exchange, Book 2 of Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr. She is directing this to Irial in her heart,



If I’d Scream Loud Enough


The wind may blow in the other direction,
It may yell into our ears—
But nothing will stop me from screaming
Even if you don’t hear.
Even the tallest mountain discourages my act,
What, have you now taken sides?
The rivers swim away from my simple touch,
Is it in darkness your heart resides?


I remember when I was longing for your touch,
Your promiscuous fingers called my name,
Your inhumanity to me was nothing much,
Just an inconvenience in the game.
But I didn’t know you’d use me,
You were telling me you’d free me from my pain,
You freed me of hurt, pain, fear and too glee,
And all those beautiful emotions that had kept me sane.

I’d escape from you, oh yes I would,
Even though in your otherworldly love I live,
I’d wrench the door open and run away
Unbinding myself from the gifts you give.
I treasure my humanity, sanity more than I do you,
To free me, you can’t even leave me, can you?
To give me happiness, you can’t even let me go?
Though I’ve told you that this life hurts me so much more,
Why do you try to kill me so slow?
There’s people out there waiting for me to run,
There’re lovers and friends who’d never hurt me in a huff,
I know I can resist your passion and leave
If I’d scream loud enough.

Dec 21, 2009

Poem # 18 I, Your Heart

I, Your Heart  ♥

You find solace in the sound of my beating;
My calming rhythm, my adaptation to your heating;
I keep you walking the tightrope of Life
I’m the reason you can bleed if you’ve been hurt in strife.
I’m why you fall in love, why you hurt, why you grin
I’m why you want more, why you cry, why you sing a hymn,
I’m the root of your existence,
And you overlook me with no resistance,
Though I know to me you’re oblivious
It’s nice to see that my effect is obvious.
But lately I’ve been thinking about how much I mean to you.
I mean, you hurt me a lot and leave me in rue.
And yet I continue to slog and pump your blood,
I continue to hold the burden of you life and your mud,
But I get the brunt of your work, not you,
Whose life are you trying to screw?
You break me with every guy,
You break me when you kill a fly.
I give you blood. I give you love.
I give you sensation and emotion and all else above.
I fashion your mobility, your choice, your sake,
And yet all you give me is painful heartbreak.

Poem # 16 Melodies Like Ribbon Fly

Melodies Like Ribbon Fly


I falter at the sound of that sweet music,
Such melody eluding the lies of life;
Like pure, auditory, saccharine magnificence!
Sad beauty singing the woes of a wife;
I turn up the dial and whimper in earnest
The slow, earnest flow of the song is like white-
An expanse of so much, so hidden…
And her sorrow is the dark shadow in sight.
I bow my head as I hear her sing,
The song isn’t music; it’s the tune of her heart
Stuck on heartbreak and jammed on that floor,
She sings the song like she can do no more.

Her melodies like ribbon fly,
Travelling with the current of the gale
Fuelled by the ferocity of her hope
That her love listens and to leave her he’ll fail.
Broken, listeners like me bordering the earth
Send our hopes to accompany hers,
As her lonesome ribbon of melody flies
Yearning to relight heartbroken embers.

Poem # 13 Freefall

Free-fall








Is this how it feels to fall?
The adrenaline that gushes in my veins
Seems to push my heart upwards into my mouth,
And drowns away all the pains.
Is this how every suicide in the world feels?
Free-fall through the weightless air,
Like my feet were swept clean from the ground,
And hardly any of this heartbreak seems fair.
I’m just hurt that I didn’t find this earlier
Find what? This exhilaration of falling from above
Falling through time and meaning and fate
Falling, falling, falling in love.

Poem # 12 Quiet Night

Quiet Night


How – is this possible, at the least?
For the sky to darken so much like this-
To blacken the streaming stars and the moon in the sky.
Silence that coats us all like this
Be intensified by the dreaming children of the night.
Samhain,
You bring down your rain
So we can live with the dead
Once again,
But Samhain,
You mean to mock our pain?
When the dead have been and gone
And our grief had driven us insane…
So every year you give us a chance
To lose our minds in this never-ending game
Don’t tarry our sleeping children,
Don’t come again, oh Samhain….

Dec 20, 2009

Poem # 10 Hallowe'en

Hallow’s Eve


Her bald nose protruding, condescendingly, she sees
The little town children are all asleep!
Sighing, her eyes twinkle – her sisters have done well,
For the town is as silent as death; not a croak, nor a beep.
And she flings a crevasse into the icy cadaver-
Her voice reverberates in a sordid cackle,
Signalling the season of Fear to skirmish and shackle!

Her warty demeanour brings forth two more like her,

Foul, ugly and rotting – three witches, coated with fur,
And now raise the werewolves; dogs howling into the sky-
For the moon is a pale circle the blinded wolves try to pry.
The witches swing in motion to find the fire-elves,

Who shall creep into the houses and set ablaze all shelves,
Their brooms fly across the sky and they meet the Devil,
He swings his trident – he is as sour as a Seville,
And lo! Fear coats the town like rust,
The children shake in their beds – protect themselves, they must!
For ghouls and gnomes and goblins are there,
Creating havoc in their very own air!
Wild beasts they are, but this is the one time they are free-
Free from their virtual hell; on this eve they come to Be,
To live, to laugh, for this is the one annual chance they have,
To reclaim the empire that was once theirs – Transylvania, Slav...
This freedom tastes like sweet elixir to them,
To the pumpkins, the ghosts, the vampires, the Witches of Salem,
To all beasts unknown, to those fairytale villains,
This eve is a night in tribute to them!

So they wander free and live like the good old days,
When the world was in their hands, and it succumbed to their ways,
When the town women wept, running, shielding their children,

When men screamed in cursed pain, rounding their cattle and hen,
O this night – what a wonder for these trapped entities,
For when it is up, Man once more frees
His own empire, and downs this ancient magic,
The tale of these beasts is rather tragic.

****I wrote this for a Halloween Poetry Competition a Hogwarts group I am a part of on Shelfari have every season. Was a runner up!****

Poem # 9 Listen to the Magic

Listen



Hush, insignificant child,
Try to listen to the croak of the Ravens,
Their sheer screeches and red eyes pulsing,
Danger that pushes through their veins.
Vile creatures, o’ the night-
Hear their screams of threat.
Hush, child.

Listen
To the death that surrounds you like soul-
The hope that the earth leaks
The hearth the fire presents
The calm and tranquil the water breathes,
The mobility of the lively air,
The enormous leap of the spirit:-


Hush, child. Tend to only those matters,
That you know your young soul can feel,
For there is magic here invisible to you,
But oh so visible to me.

****Dedicated to the House of Night, Untamed! The bit where Zoey feels the Spirit of the Raven Mockers in the air =D****

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