Question.

Let’s talk about questions,thoughts and emotions today.

Here is a not-so-recent poem I’ve written.I am actually kind of proud of it and hence wouldn’t be giving it much of an introduction and will let you jump right in.I hope you like it.

“What exactly is a question?”

I asked my mother when I was 3,

“What you’re asking me,right  there,is a question.”

 

“What exactly is a question?”

I asked my teacher when I was 8,

“Anything followed by a question mark is a question.”

 

“What exactly is a question?”

I asked my best friend when I was 16,

“When you demand an answer,that is a question.”

 

“What exactly is a question?”

I asked my love when I was 27,

“Will you marry me,is my question.”

 

“What exactly is a question?”

I asked myself when I was 32,

“Am I pregnant?” Yes,that is a question.

 

I thought I was done with questions,

And question marks and puzzles,

For good,but then.

 

“What exactly is a question?”

I saw my 3-year-old ask me,

Amidst the thunderous silence and shrapnel,

“Why?”That is the question.

I answered,picking up the last picture of my husband,

Unsure.Uncertain.

Everything was a question.

THIS POSTS’S QUESTION : What exactly do you think is a question? Comment below with what you think about it,I’d love to hear from you!

 

 

An Ode To Rain.

Lets talk about rain today.

I have always been a pluviophile. The rains are so beautiful to me. The smell of the earth right before and right after a rain shower is one of most favourite smells(Basically, what Amortentia would smell like to me, get it?)For me,the ideal rainy day is to be curled up by the window with a book and hot chocolate. I moved from a place with comparatively less rain to an extremely rainy place, especially around these months. So, one day just sitting by my window watching the rain, I ended up writing a little piece in its praise. I’m trying to make it musical but maybe I’m the only one who’s singing it. Sorry about that.Also,its short.I’m not the best poet,words that flow one over the other are more of my comfort zone.Sorry about that too.

A thing of beauty,

A thing of grace,

Oh, the raindrops, do they race?

“Lets see who gets the little’s kid’s head first!”

Whenever the earth is at its worst,

Crying from thirst and parched,

They descend, on the rooftops arched.

Little beads of silver, pure,clear,

To many , you’re quite a dear.

What can I say what has not been said?

Due to you, our earth is fed.

Thank you, dear rain, for caring,

Nurturing and helping in our existing.

The bottom line is,we are in your heavy debt,

The payment of which can never be met.

THIS POST’S QUESTION: How do you define your ideal rainy day? Comment below on what you think about. I’d love to hear from you!

 

 

War.

Lets talk about war through a poem I wrote on it when I was 14.

I have always felt strongly about war. I am a generally sensitive person and war is one of the things that affect me the most. Hence , a lot of my writing is about war.This poem is probably one of my first war poems. It’s nothing special, is non rhythmic, pretty basic and is simply titled “War.” Here it goes.

What is war?

Is it the cause of human guilt?

Is it the search for a scapegoat?

Is it the fight against a group of people?

Or is it intolerance of a religion?

Is it what we consider a mistake?

Or is it what we learn from?

Is it the extent of what humans are capable of?

Or is it not knowing what to do?

Is it because someone was pressurised?

Or is it because someone was ostracised?

It is for all the above reasons, but not quite,

These are its consequences, not what it is,

War is when humans forget who they are,

And when humanity fights against humanity,

and always, it is humanity that loses.

THIS POST’S QUESTION : What do you, personally, think war is? Comment below with what you think about it. I’d love to hear from you!

Goodbye.

Lets talk about goodbyes through a poem I wrote a year ago.

In my last post,(click here to find that) I talked about changing schools and learning from it.I also mentioned that I grew to love my old school so much,I was shattered to leave it.I wrote a little poem when I came back after my last day at that school,over a year ago and found it quite recently when I stumbled upon one of my old journals.

Here goes,

GOODBYE

That day I smiled,

but my heart wasn’t in it,

My shirt and a bunch of markers,

was  all that took to stain it,

With little doodles and scribbles,notes and drabbles,

Memories flowing on fabric,inside jokes coming up like cadets,

but amidst the frolicked frenzy,

sitting upon our heads like death looms upon an ancient man,

The smirks were gone,

and in their place came the tears,

travelling down our faces to the very tips of our noses,

trailing a path in seemingly measured doses,

the hugs were shared,kisses not spared,

and then ,then was uttered that one word,

that encompassed all that had happened throughout our time together,

the one that would be remembered,

when our hair turned white,

and our legacies gathered around us tight,

the one glorious- Goodbye.