Monday, 3 August 2015

Life, Writer, Poetry

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

1 comment:

  1. Here lies the river endless
    In her belly lies the vastness
    Washing away her sins of death
    Forever and ever
    Across this vast madness
    Lies silently the river of doom.
    Hi shivani I loved to your sense of poetry like an art decorating time itself. I wrote this long back you give me your views on it