Pens and Pages

When I had just started blogging I planned to write fictions only. Eventually, poems happened and then articles. True stories, there were none until “Was She Raped?” happened. People reveal their inner selves in their blogs and I still do not have the guts to. Nor do I intend to (Nope, I don’t :-P). But then sometimes a diary knows too much of you and you just want it (which is basically you) to shut up. These are the times when you need to blog. Acknowledging the fact that not many people read your blog helps you even more (Not now, they don’t. The number of my readers, of late, has only decreased :-/) It so happened last weekend that I just couldn’t face my diary no matter how much I tried. So at my time of despair, I just couldn’t find the solace of it. I couldn’t because I didn’t want to, being aware of the fact that confronting it, would only break me down into smaller pieces. Yes, I was broken and I very much wanted to escape the fact and yet, face it at the same time. ...

My brave warrior, Thou art no Lazarus. Thou will not resurrect. Thou dig thy own grave. Thou cannot bequeath Thy slayings to the soil. The soil shall not bury Thy charred soul. Eden waits not for thou. Thy scars won't go; They won't leave, They won't heal. Wear them as a curse. Wear them as a curse Till thy corpse rot. Thy soul shall suffer While the blood-stained Weeds will shout, "Wear it as a curse, Wear it as a curse!"

From a tiny crack On the lush wrist, Out, flowed A thick liquid, Crimson coloured, From the deepest Of the bluest Of veins in it. "Let us go," Said each drop That dripped on The floor, As it gave away Its hue. "Let us leave too," The liquid screamed From within. The floor Embraced Each drop that spread And so it Turned Slowly, blood-red

She stares at the blank paper Crumbled a million times, Like her own life. She stares at the glass of wine, As clear as her heart could be, Sparkling only when it should - Every time you look at it. He looks at the mess she is now, Oh, didn't he love her once, For the tears and the scars? Time plays its part As it moves on, He too moves on And she, like the paper She holds, Holds a life that needs Someone to unfold it, To wipe the wrinkles Off her pale white face. A tear-drop finds its way To her soul, bruised, He laughs and goes off While she awaits  Another tragedy...

Ever tried dreaming of those broken shards again? Nay, I dare not. Not now, now that I dwell in this forest Of that what cannot be found, Of the pieces she picked up And stubbed on each branch Of the tree I so loved. Ever found those pieces? They say they're gone now, Lost in the forest of memories. They say, love still remains; I see fire, I see destruction And a dark night of vengeance. To dream again of those shards I dare not, I dare not.

So I just found it out today that  Geeta Nair  ( http://geetaavij.wordpress.com ) nominated me for  THE LIEBSTER BLOG AWARD  (liebster meaning “favourite” in German, which reminds me of the first German sentence I learnt - ich liebe dich :-D ) last year.  Also on the same month of November 2013, I was nominated for this award by  Bhavya Kaushik  ( http://bhavyakaushik.com / ) too.  I understand that I am too late in honouring the two nominations of the Liebster Award  but I am a big  fan of the saying – “ better late than never” , so I am going to accept it anyway. Rules of receiving the award : • To accept the award one must link back to the person who nominated him/ her. • Nominate 10 more bloggers who you feel are deserving of more subscribers. • Answer all questions posted by the nominator. • Create 10 questions for the nominees. • Contact the 10 nominees and inform them that they have been nominate...