Tick Tock

Tick tock.

Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.

Seconds melt into each other,
Moments meshing together,
Until time becomes nothing
But a painting of colorful swirls
Splattered across the easel of life.

Time is fleeting,
As is life,
As are feelings,
As are people.

And before I know it,
You’re gone.


tick tock


I am submitting some of my poems to a poetry contest called the Foyle Young Poets, and one of its requirements is that the entries cannot have been published anywhere in the world, including on online blogs. Unfortunately therefore, I will have to retract three of my poems, Bodacious Bedtime, Potion Commotion, and Ode to a Frappuccino. Sorry for the inconvenience 😦 .

Outsiders (Rhyme Royal)

We constantly feel like forks amongst knives,
Or an unattached bee in a realm of hives —

Hey guys! In the spirit of #FearlessFriday, this poem is a rather long, narrative-style poem written in Rhyme Royal, a poetic format that was the standard narrative meter in the late Middle Ages. A stanza written in Rhyme Royal consists of seven lines, with a rhyme scheme of ABABBCC. Hope you like it!

’Tis undeniably true that we all
Feel like outsiders throughout our lives;
Whether we choose to slump down or stand tall,
We constantly feel like forks amongst knives,
Or an unattached bee in a realm of hives —
A puzzle piece that just doesn’t seem to fit
In the complex mosaic of the world un-split.

We start off as babes, looking in wonder
At a world full of novelties galore:
Like the tremendous might of Zeus’ thunder,
And the incredible power behind the roar
Of a fierce lion or a majestic boar —
But this novel realm makes us conjecture;
“How could I ever fit in here?” we lecture.

Then comes the tricky phase of adolescence,
The unwieldy stage when teenagers transform
Into veritable misfits — Its essence
Is characterized by a turbid storm
Of emotions and feelings far out of the norm;
We become as rebellious as the sea,
Trying to ‘find ourselves’ in the bourgeoisie.

And before we know it, we have arrived
At the colossal doors to adulthood;
The fruits of our labor, for which we have strived,
Hang just within reach; But even then we would
Feel excluded from anything we could,
From our meager social life to our vexatious jobs,
Regarding all around us as a bunch of snobs.

Soon thereafter, the heavens chime their bells,
And we are blessed with a lovely family,
Fully complete with a couple of little belles
Running around looking charmingly silly;
But even when we think the breeze can’t get chilly,
We take on the role of outsiders again,
As the tots grow up and leave the familial den.

The flower of our being slowly withers,
And with time approaches the sanctum of old age,
Where we can tranquilly reflect sans dithers
On the role we have played on the world’s stage —
But the earth is so diff’rent! The hue of rage
Creeps over us when we can’t comprehend
The realm we have lived in until the end.

Even in death, exclusion leaves us not,
When the Judges of the Underworld decree
Whether we got in to Elysium or not;
Or when our spirits return, totally free
To roam and haunt to the highest degree,
A world that they will never anew
Partake in, ever, through and through.

Yet, in this world rife with people
Who feel like they never truly belong,
Can we really perch ourselves on the steeple
Of a church filled with an ‘Outsiders’ throng? —
Riddle me this, aren’t we in the wrong
To say we don’t fit in, in the midst of a horde
Who all surmise they’re perpetually ignored?

Whew! That was deep, wasn’t it? Don’t forget to like, share, subscribe, and leave a comment on what you thought of this poem, whether or not you agree with the core message, or whether you like long poems in the spirit of #FearlessFriday. Thanks for reading!



Welcome to Poetry Paradise! If you love poetry, words, and profound thoughts, this is the perfect place for you.

Hey everyone! I’m glad you’re here.

I’m Ananya Singhal, a tenth-grade poetry enthusiast, and this blog is my attempt to get my poems out into the world. Moreover, I love experimenting with new poetic forms and styles, so you just might find yourself increasing your own knowledge of poetry as you accompany me on this ride through a teenager’s mind.

Below is a quote by my all-time favorite poet Robert Frost (I mean, have you read ‘Fire and Ice’) that ideally defines what this blog is all about:

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. — Robert Frost

Don’t forget to like, share, subscribe to my emailing list to be the first to know whenever a new post is released, and put in comments about what poetic styles you think I should try, which poets are your favorite, or even about which Hogwarts house you’re in! I love hearing from my readers.

And hey, thanks for taking the time to be here… I really appreciate it!


The pen is mightier than the sword…