Hey. Well! Hello everyone. I'm Shivani. Of course you have read my name already but a formal introduction is must.
So. I am Shivani Pal. I am a seventeen year old teenage school going girl. I belong from a typical indian family. But somehow, i love my family. Who doesn't? Yeah! Things go a little upside down sometime but family is family.
Everyone might be wondering
What made me start a blog of my own?
That's certainly not a tough question to answer.
I've always wanted to be a writer. I feel them cool. Yeah I know most of you might find writers boring but according to me they are the best kind of personalities born on the earth.
They see the world much more differently then normal people do. I think writing is all about appreciation. A writer appreciates everything. From sunrise to sunset. From greenery to a barren land, from the shades of sky to the darkness of night. There is never 'NOTHING' for a writer.
And so is the case with me.
I want to be a writer and I want people to read what I write. To know how much beautiful this world we are living in is.
And nothing could be better then starting a blog of my own.
So, here goes.
My First Blog Page
A POEM written by me.
A Mourning Seen
An old lady wan and pale
Her skinny hands lift up but fails
Her timid eyes with vision blurred
And her face in dismay covered
Lost in thoughts profoundly wise
Again is startled by a noise
Lifting her head she gazed around
Familiar faces, she did found
Perfect attires those people wore
Explicated on her dress outworn
Prowling through the enormous circle
Diabolical talks of people bustle
Lost she was and lost in a way
Forgot about the very day
Marching forward to the crowd
Which prattled in a voice so loud
About the food which lacked taste
About the feast which seemed a waste
About the dead and about his money
About clothes and old enemy
Stepping ahead she recalls
About her wedding and the hall
Crowd and faces were both similar
But nothing and everything differ
The white attires were now black
And the music that played back
Reminds her of a mourning seen
Struck with fear, was no more keen
She was pale but now cold
With each step a truth unrolled
Her throat choked and she was captive
By destiny, which seemed deceptive
A body with no soul lies beside
Of her mate who had died
An ache did clasp her heart so hard
Memories of her past embarked
Realisation swept over her brain
And she prayed she could bargain
Her soul for that of her mate
But on this topic she could not debate
That day was her husband's funeral
The crowd was there for his burrial
Mask of sympathy and pain the held
Stood with false tears in the weald
False and fake, the crowd started
With dismal faces, they all deprted
By- Shivani Pal