Arushi Singh's Blog

This is a sample intro paragraph and can be used to introduce readers to your article.

This is an example of a WordPress post, you could edit this to put information about yourself so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many posts as you like in order to share with them what is on your mind.

This is an example of a WordPress post, you could edit this to put information about yourself so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many posts as you like in order to share with them what is on your mind. This is an example of a WordPress post, you could edit this to put information about yourself so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many posts as you like in order to share with them what is on your mind.

This is a Sample Heading

This is an example of a WordPress post, you could edit this to put information about yourself so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many posts as you like in order to share with them what is on your mind.

This is an example of a WordPress post, you could edit this to put information about yourself so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many posts as you like in order to share with them what is on your mind. This is an example of a WordPress post, you could edit this to put information about yourself so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many posts as you like in order to share with them what is on your mind.

Two of my poems

ISACOUSTIC*

A passionate writer and literature enthusiast, Arushi Singh has been experimenting with free style poetry for a few years. She is from Delhi, India, and is currently studying literature at Mount Carmel College, Bangalore.  She has had her poetry published in magazines like Page and Spine, Literary Yard, One Sentence Poems, Fourth and Sycamore and others.  Her first poetry collection, Deviant: the obscenity of truth, is available on Amazon.

~*~

Whereas,

it was ten minutes since they said my mother was

“probably dead”

Whereas, we walked on bomb craters to find our way back to the

Skeleton of our home

Whereas, it was dark then, it is dark now

Whereas, the ribbons from my gaypride flag exploded in his ears

Whereas, life was lonely when you took it

Whereas, loneliness is still a heartbeat of the soul

Whereas, dreams were still dreams if you woke into them
Whereas, he…

View original post 514 more words

A Ballad of suicide letters

“When the soul suffers too much, it develops a taste for misfortune.” 

― Albert Camus, The First Man 

I had twenty in my pocket, ten in my veins, and one in my heart. Happiness was another taste. I was an absurdist at heart. I knew nothing made sense. Nothing amounted to anything. There was no meaning. There was no voice on the lips of terror, no sensation in the veins of pain. 

I had already decided- in the midst of suffering, man- bereft of meaning, chooses to live. 

Published in isacoustic!

ISACOUSTIC*

Arushi Singh, a poet, book reviewer, and literature student from India, has poems forthcoming in Radius: Poetry from the centre to the edge and Chiron Review, and currently in The Big Windows Review, Literary Yard, Fourth and Sycamore, Anti-Heroin Chic, Cat on A Leash and others.

///

IN MEDIAS RES

Mother is what comes

Before and after my face

Father is the aftermath of break in my umbilical

Cord

Mother holds and kisses his face

The contractions are not yet bad enough

Mother smiles- two crescents, halfway up like a

hanging boat ride

Father will remember this day

Years of hard distance between them

dissipating in the wetness of one

kiss

Mother starts to crumple, my sister can see the wrinkles

On her face

Father arches his eyebrows

Mother lets out a howl like a

Wolf looking for the moonlight

Father passes out in fear
A man- too many…

View original post 88 more words

Hey again!

I have recently started a youtube channel in the hope that I would be able to spread the word about my collection and try spoken word. My channel name is – The Irrelevant Bystander. Do go and like or comment on my first video and subscribe to my channel for more of my poetry on a new platform!

To Mom,

You knew you would be the first one.
You just knew.
 Maybe papa knows me better, but you know I know the things you know about me.
 Can you hear me Mumma?
 Can you hear the little voice you once coddled in your womb? Can you hear the
 annoying silence, the unbearable restlessness, and the endless pain?

Maybe you can. Maybe you can’t. Maybe you want to, maybe you don’t.
 Maybe it’s just easier to pretend that the girl in front of you is fine. Maybe it is easier
to believe there’s a God. Maybe it is easier to rely on him(?).
 Maybe.

Mumma, do you remember the time I was so young
(I don’t know how I remember this)
 you could hold me in the palm of your hand. I was so tiny you could fit me
 in your pocket and pretend (for once) that I was in your control.
That would have been the first, wouldn’t it mumma?
This was the third time I overdosed
This makes me the fifth of the people you know
You know?

Ma, my wrists feel stronger now
But they can carry the weight of the blade
No more
Maybe if I try hard enough we can
Pretend I’m just a window,
With a way out
And no way in

Mumma, do you remember the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months years
My tears
wouldn’t step
My pain, too visible to hide
My love – safeguarded for all the wrong men

Mumma, do you remember
My first smile?
The curve of a child who would soon be
Eager to die

Mumma, do you hear me when I say save me
Or is it just me
Talking to the voices in my head


Mumma, what if I told you
That poets and teachers study Kerouac
Just for Ocean to call them douchebags
What if I told you this life
.
.
.  (this- a blank space)
.
.
.

Hey again,

As I might have mentioned before (countless times!), I have recently had my poetry collection published. The collection is essentially a fusion of ideas of war, poverty, politics, depression and many more completely unrelated themes. Basically, my general weirdness. I would love it if you would support my art by buying my book and reviewing it on Amazon and Goodreads. This will help me grow as a poet. I would love it if you could contact me and tell me how you feel about my poetry.

Arushi

 

the death of innocence

Hey again,

I am Arushi, a poet from India. You can get my newest poetry collection on Amazon for free. You can even support my art by buying the book (if you like my poetry) in paperback or for Kindle. Please support my art by reading and reviewing it. i feel your feedback will help me grow as a poet. here is the link to it-

amazon.com/dp/B07762BK6N

amazon.in/dp/B07762BK6N

Thank you

Arushi

There is a certain subtlety to Arushi Singh’s poems, they do not politely knock on the door of your conscience and wait to be ushered in, they make themselves at home. This collection opens with Syria and you are at war, with the world, with humanity but you also grieve and it’s the desolation that […]

via Book Review: This is Not For Us- And all the things they tell you — Nilichosoma