This is in response to Himanshu’s Two Phrase Story.
Today’s phrase is: She turned the ignition off
– Kritika Vashist
ink
Hers
I thought why there is a need to search google images when I have one picture of myself 🙂
Kritika Vashist
Tonight I am too Tired
Tonight my moon hides behind the gloomy clouds
Tonight the stars do not reflect the twinkle in my eyes
Tonight I am too tired to heart myself out, just like them.
Tonight I am too tired to paint you with my ink
To rain your memories through my teary eyes
To savor your scent etched into your letters.
Tonight my mind is too slothful to be lost in thoughts
Tonight my veins are too murky to carry my thin blood
Tonight my skin is too weary to breathe in melancholy.
Tonight my pen is too tired to sing me lullabies
Tonight the silence is too tired to envelope me
Tonight I am too tired to put myself to sleep.
– Kritika Vashist
DAY 1
This is in response to Prateek’s Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge. Thank you Prateek for giving me this wonderful opportunity.
The challenge is – “Post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph and each day nominate another blogger for the challenge”
My Nomination for Day 1 is HBhatnagar who takes all challenges with much enthusiasm. All the best, Himanshu.
8000 Miles
My hands longing to hold your arms
that make the safest home for me
loathe these miles that keep me
away from the warmth of your hugs.
My eyes wanting to be read by you
shed a tear while watching the sky
above us knowing that you are looking
at the sun right now remembering me.
My ink not letting me pen down any
word any emotion that I feel tonight
as my soul is wishing to just sit by
the lake and talk to you in silence.
I hear the whispers of my sobbing heart
trying to comfort me with words you had
once spoken to me, that even though
we are miles apart, our souls have crossed
and that this love is more than the costly
tickets and thousand miles separating us.
-Kritika Vashist
Blank Pages
One night you’ll be all alone by yourself
with your grey hair and wrinkled face
you’d try to plop down near the fireplace
when the forgotten love would break its shell.
Your shaky and crinkled hands would try
to hold the diary of blank pages I threaded
for you to know that I’ll there if ever your sails shredded
for you to heart out your life’s hows and whys.
In subdued glow your droopy and wet eyes
which I believe still appear as an ocean
the one that had swallowed me in devotion
would read those blank pages you had despise.
You might cry a bit, you will regret a lot
when you’ll see the fire burning outside, inside
of your heart where I had once comfortably reside
when you’ll try to recreate my face you forgot.
In your loneliness you would be full of time
and you would try to ink those blank pages
with your sorrows and how life is at lonely stages
but by then you’d realize that dry ink is not worth a dime.
In the blue and the dim and the fire light
my love would come and make you whole
for even then you’ll remain pilgrim in my soul
for even then my love won’t be out of your sight.
-Kritika Vashist
From the Soul to the nib of the Pen 