My first blog

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 normal teenage school going girl. I am 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 always wanted to be a writer. I feel them cool. Yeah! I know, most of you 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