Words

I don’t care what people say, I am wearing fun, My last year of being single, here’s my story everyone. Sipping tea every morning, life looks brighter, I love staring the moon and I’m an amateur writer. Rain lifts my spirit, book my accessory, My profession taught me to speak only when it’s necessary. Walking towards my goals, I carry only dedication, With the word 'impossible', I have no relation. I love playing with words; we share a special bond, I close my eyes to imagine what lies beyond. Blessed with great parents and a loving brother, For whatever little I achieve, credit goes to my mother. My life has been a déjà vu with many ups and downs, And at last, I am falling in for a guy from my hometown. So, I don’t care what people say, I am wearing fun, My last year of being single, that's my life everyone. * I wrote this poem in December, 2008.

Like wanderer on a smoky road, My soul was filled with doubt. Loaded with complex emotions, I 'searched' for my whereabouts... Please click and read the entire poem on Subhrashis’s blog.

Tipsy because of weather, my heart is on mindless race. Which one to admire more, The tresses caressing your cheek or your lovely face.

Thunderstorms in the corner of my heart, Keep my eyes wet. Few dabs of happiness here and there, Don't make life blessed. Often I count, Looking outside the window at night. How many wrong deeds I did? That I fail to touch new heights. Not even a single wish, No wish has come true. My fingers are all black, Searching for happiness in the residue. Not up in the ladder, All I want is a place of some worth, As when you don't get what you deserve, It hurts. *Image source – www.o5.com

Ever lived a day with a shadow of hope, After reading few lines in your horoscope. Kept the smile throughout the day, While essaying a normal bouquet. Fitting perfectly in the body of songs, In the drop of rain your 'self' belongs. Feet tap with mist of fragrance in the air, All this is happening at the beginning of my affair.

Pure as a dewdrop, Charming as an angel, as a bloom. Tender as a touch, Fair as a pearl, as a moon. Resting inside my body, Nine months of heavenly bliss. Painting the moments every day, When I'll hold you in my arms to kiss. It's a weary job of ornamenting life, We both will gradually discover. Stepping on these highly coveted shoes, It's not easy being a mother. Music of your babbling, Dancing of your beautiful eyes. Sucking off your own toes, And, the late nights babies specialize. Juggling this happiness, Don't know which one I'll cherish more. Simply awed by this experience, Being a mother, I'll definitely adore. *This is a work of fiction.