Tag: ArshiaVora

🌱 STAR

11 Comments

Celebrating four years of arshiavora.com 🙂

Sapling Plantation - Aster RV Hospital

An oppressive blanket of darkness

Stretching for miles and miles at end

Heavy, crushing, weighing down

A silence stretching all around.

A tiny soft and delicate seed

Dainty and weak, fueled by need

Life was never easy.

.

A push and a shake

Strength, behind the quake

A weakness in the defence

An army sent to hell

Dirt scatters all around

But nobody there shouts

No whistles or applause

It rises from the ground

Delicate, but proud

In morning sunlight’s glory,

A star begins it’s story.

~

ARSHIA VORA

🎇New Year

8 Comments
New Year Fireworks, Harbour Bridge -AV

It’s the beginning of a chapter,

What’s written has been writ

But the fresh, blank paper

Has not a blot of ink on it.

.

A rose white page

A filled, black pen

You’ve written the beginning

Now continue with the end.

.

Hey! Here’s a 3 month late New Years poem that I did write around the right time, but couldn’t publish. Now the rest of my exams have been postponed due to the virus, here’s my (very delayed) first post of 2020, ‘New Year’.

.

~

ARSHIA VORA

PPS: Wow. Look at this poor fool writing this poem not knowing what she was in for. I published that on March 20, 2020. Can you believe it’s almost March again? Like HOW??? However this is a New Years poem and I will certainly be recycling this every year till I get back the energy to write another one. Congrats on making it through 2020! Happy New Year!! (Jan 2, 2021)

🦋 butterfly

5 Comments

The butterfly gave its wings

a flutter

Lands far away dissolved

in thunder

If a butterfly flaps its wings in the right place, at just the right time, it can cause a hurricane thousands of miles away.

Chaos Theory

~

ARSHIA VORA

🌊 O C E A N

3 Comments

A sparkling plane of cosmic size

Glistening waves that incessantly mesmerize

Emrald green, glittering turquoise

Graceful, smooth, full of poise.

.

Endearing, tugging at the eyes,

Playing the Siren, pulling us inside

A writhing monster, having enough,

Thirsting for more,

A power hidden from our eyes

By delicate waves and crafty lies.

.

So huge, so massive, ginormous size

Unable to fathom,

Dragging large ships to their knees,

Playing a pirate to pirates

Massacring fleets

Hiding and burying everything beneath.

.

And when the day is sunny

And the birds are warbling merry

And you feel safe and sound

One day, this colossal being will pounce

No swords, no guns, you can’t run forever

There will come a time to submit yourself to the terror.


~

ARSHIA VORA

🥀 Roses

1 Comment

Should Students Be Allowed to Grade Teachers?

Teachers are the torchbearers of our future. Day in and day out we curse the education system but deep (very deep) down, we all know that knowledge is better than nescience.

Every child is like a delicate flower, and one can never be sure whether a particular stimulus will make it bloom….or wilt.

With relation to the topic, YES. I believe that teachers must be graded.

Every teacher has undergone the same rigorous training, sat through the same lectures, attended the same colleges, nurtured the same dreams- so what makes them different? It is their personalities. Each teacher has a different way of working, a different way of conducting lectures, in just the same way that every class has an overall, average personality. A lot of times a teacher and her students are not personality compatible. This can result in chaos in the class and frustration at both ends.

Teachers will only enjoy teaching if their students love them. They will never understand what a student really needs unless they receive some feedback. The roses will wilt slowly in the background.

~

Arshia Vora

Published in the Hindustan Times Newspaper dated 11/10/2018 .

🌠 I Wish

8 Comments

I wish.

I wish I had the power with words

That could twist through you like a fork

Bring you great agony

Cause you to stir a mutiny

Against every wrong in the world

About how people everyday suffer.

Because they have no food,

No clothes, no house, no job.

But that power isn’t mine,

I really wish it was.

.
I wish

I wish I could make you understand

That the joy you see,

Is a mirage, a fake mirror

Built around to protect you

But through those cracks you’ll see,

How people truly suffer.

They plaster on that old fake smile

But really they are breaking inside

Cracking to pieces

Under the weight of the world

Carrying all their burdens

Upon their shoulders

But that power isn’t mine,

I really wish it was.

.
I wish

I wish I could open up your eyes

To view Mother Nature as she dies

Like the cancer that creeps up your veins

Eradicating, killing, everything in its way

Humans accompanied by their lies

Are doing nothing for their lives

They fail to hear nature’s waning cries

But that power isn’t mine

I really wish it was.

.
I wish

I wish I was able to guide you right,

Away from the world and its fake guise

Out of the veil into reality,

Where people have no health and no money

Where their wills are slowly cracking,

Lives are slowly blackening;

To get you to help them in any way possible

Stop the world from dying

At a rate abnormal.

Do everything you could,

Want to make them feel understood

End the problems of the world,

Take out the lemon from the hurt

But that power isn’t mine

I really wish it was.

~
ARSHIA VORA

Runner up at the National Poetry Competition conducted by Robinage (BrightSparks). Appeared in the Robinage newspaper published in June.