Students Corner

The student corner is an exclusive section of Lsquare that brings to you the literary creation, pen-craft, creative content contributed by students.

Cage of Flesh

The bizarre human creature, a singular entity;
Constructed by radical design.
Yet so evident its palpable frailty,
Something it avows to decline.

Still wholly obdurate and steadfast,
He stands with eyes ablaze.
Sinewy limbs tense; suspicion miscast,
As he readies to give chase.

Misconstrued is the futile pursuit.
For the conflict lies within;
‘Twixt soul and body inside the brute,
A skirmish neither can win.

They hack and they slash, and they fight away, give rise to petty fuss.
The dialogue shared by both, may indeed run as thus:

Thou vile cage of sinister flesh,
Hast stayed me incarcerated.
I am but a soul, formless:
Loitering till emancipated.

Rickety confinement is all thou art;
A reminder of mortal chain.
How I wish we’d fly apart,
And with thee, rescind my pain.

I am free spirit, divine no less.
Meant for sky and heaven.
Stranded I, in a cage of flesh;
‘Tis foul, eww grotesque even.

Thy promise of sustenance, shelter and home is naught but despicable lie.
O grave body of mine, has thee words to say in reply?

O you poor little soul, literally I say;
William himself would extol:
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
I won’t play this role.

You lay blame on me, accuse me of wrong.
I am innocent of grievous fault.
All I ever do is sing my song,
And walk myself to a halt.

You didn’t ask for this, neither did I
Circumstance is why we’re here.
Shed not your responsibility,
And conquer yourself sans fear.

Twins we are, of similar creed,
Yet you feel skyward bound?
You belong not in Elysian mead;
But here on earthy ground.

I carry you with sweaty brow, I am no pupil of treason.
I ask for nothing, but I ask you now, pay heed to reason:

Blind was I as a soul, with hate, erroneous I admit.
I would have thee back as trusted body, only if thou permit?

And so concludes this tale of war, a common plague for humans.
He runs and jumps and scurries along, towards perils, old and new ones.

Ere that follows, dangers must wait, for which the humans are a fodder.
As the soul does frankly believe, an apology is in order:

Forgive me brother, pray grant me pardon, I remain proven fool;
No cage of flesh, thou art a throne of flesh, on which I sit and rule.

– Abhinav D R P
PGP 2021-23


I saw you in your winter’s closet yet spring set me upside down.
A mere glimpse that made me – set store in fiction’s yarns,
fantasy quests, relished verses and medieval tales,
That swivel and stir like morning breeze or cold waters in the Northern lakes.

You’re fragrance’s like my evening espresso,
Whose aroma hits like hot caffeine shots,
Subtle sips that paint your face in the frenzy of my psychedelics,
Your blonde curls, my crema’s suppleness, you invite the afterthought.

I’ve never spoken to this girl in person for she’s in her own little world,
yet like black birds on the evening’s rim, she swooned a pearled glance.
Now love’s never cute, believe me for she fluttered the collar of her flannel shirt,
she wiped honey on her cold toast, and lost; I spliced my skin, my knife – it meant harm.

I was bleeding red, mystic red, the sensuous sins of love, Oh beloved!
You whisked a smile at my juvenile act and said, “There are better ways to love.”
That’s when I caught your first fragrance, as it diffused in the espresso’s scented fumes,
that’s when I captured your choreographed steps, as you eased the tissue from the table lose.

This downtown café held a smoky mist, through the veil of which, I saw your crimson lips,
Peach skin, olive eyes, scarlet face and I wonder why, just why, I couldn’t get a grip.
You’re intricate, I’m dazed by those high rise crops and converse sneakers,
A girl like you isn’t meant for me, yet who’s to say this isn’t a seizure.

I need a clarity of this eve, this caffeinated elixir in ensnaring my senses.
Won’t you speak something? Would you touch me please? You’ve broken past all my defences.
And as I come back to this unreal real, you’re gone in the hustle, what’s left is sheer silence,
How easily, like milked almond, your prominence flowed the astute imbalance.
Just next beneath my espresso demitasse, I saw calligraphy inscribed in blue,
“8:00 PM, 13 Rosewood Lane, Would you have an espresso with my sins and virtues?”

– Akshat Singh (Occult Shadow)
PGP 2021-23