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I took a step And it dragged my body along. I don't wanna go, For I know what's behind that red door. I fear I may ruin, What has already been torn. They say Fear is nothing But your future in your nightmares. When I sleep these days, I see that red door. The door bleeds And the cave, it guards, Shrieks at midnight. I don't wanna go. But on some dark nights, When the moon disappears, I find myself caged Behind that red door.

A National Poetry Competition was on for a period of around 4-5 months organised by  Wiz Konect .. My poem got selected as one of the top-picks to be published in this anthology.. and when you read my poem you will know why it's named as such (so not poetically).. Read the entire poem in my blog -  http:// sanhitabaruah9.blogspot.in/ 2012/06/four-foul-ups.html or in the blog of Wizkonect - http:// womenoscopeindia.blogspot.i n/2012/07/ the-four-foul-sanhita-barua h.html

Take away the memories with you As you leave today Take away those happy moments Take away those tears too Because I found myself today When I lost you Take away my screaming self Who wails and withers in pain Take away the pink letters Take away the smiles too Because they know it’s over And there’s nothing we can do Take away all the pieces That reminds me of you But before leaving, Darling Take away my heart too Because it can’t love anyone else now As my love for you is true Take away all the reasons That might make you to stay Take away all the regrets That didn't make me stop you Because deep within myself I know you loved me too

She said she was a queen … of luck and fortune. Sitting on a street of Guwahati she laughed hysterically at her ill luck and misfortune. She said she was a queen … of wealth and all the riches. And she laughed at her tattered clothes and the bowl in front of her with a few coins in it. It was a fine October noon and we were on our mission of distributing clothes to the needy. After providing clothes and talking to seven or eight people living on the footpaths of Guwahati we finally met this mysterious woman sitting on the pavement near a Hanuman temple. Unlike the others she wasn’t crying, nor was she grateful when we gave her a saree. All she did was laugh at the world that passed by and pretended to ignore her. And when we were about to leave considering her to be someone who would not talk at all, she made us stay spell-bound with her  words. She told us how she was born in a well-to-do family but was made to beg on the streets, not by her parents, n...

At midnight, I lie on my bed, All soaked, all drenched, In the tears of the past I lay awake and contemplate I wonder and regret About the deeds of the past She sits by my side While my tears, I hide And we talk about the past We weep and we cry Until the tears go dry  Cognizing the past She pats my back As our pains slack And we learn from the past We soak no more Our ships set ashore And we leave behind the past.

Thy fear commences like a tiny spark Stays like a gentle flame And when the time cometh For destiny and success The fear rises like a fire betimes And kindles everything in its neck of the woods And thy greed cometh stealthily seeming like a innocuous fly and when the time cometh for charity and altruism it grows up to be a enormous vulture betimes and feeds on all benevolence in its neck of the woods And thy envy cometh in like a guest takes its first step into your mind and when the time cometh for merriment and jubilation the guest turns into a tyrant betimes and takes over everything in its neck of the woods And thy hauteur cometh with a tiny achievement agglomerates to create a mountain And when the time cometh for reality's river the river breaches the mountain betimes and washes away all the land in its neck of the woods