Life is a Cassette


Whenever you feel that life
Is singing a monotonous song
Of worn out pensiveness
Of pinching melancholics;
Pause for a moment and know
That life is like a cassette
Playing the songs
Of our unvoiced stories
Of all our unsung poetries
Of new hopes and dreams
You just need to change to
The other side of the cassette
To listen to the song of your soul.

– Kritika Vashist



Image of a Naked Tree taken in the evening

When the sun has caved in
and when the sky has worn
the color of white wine;
I want you to come
to enliven my soul with
your profound dialogues.

When my body is still
and my thoughts wander;
I want you to hold me
to direct my conscious
to stimulate my intellect.

When I’ve enveloped myself
with all my disappointments
blotching my unwrinkled skin;
I want you to heal me
to stretch out my branches
to pluck off my sorrows and regrets.

When I’ve thrown all of my
fears, secrets and stories
locking them inside my heart;
I want you to unlatch the door
to collect them with care
to meet all the unknowns.

When my true self has veiled
behind my skin and bones,
When my pain has disguised
itself in my fanciful laugh;
I want you to uncover me
to welcome my flaws
to kiss my tears
to procure my faith
to love me whole only after
you’ve touched my naked soul.


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 2 is The song writer soul. All the best 🙂

Kritika Vashist

Glass of Wine


Between my dreams and reality,
that sends shivers down my spine
my fears and hopes swim
like untold stories in a glass of wine.

All my implicit thoughts,
the desire to make you mine
all lie smoothly on the impression
of my lips on a glass of wine.

A sip of hopefulness,
a sip of helplessness,
tells my thoughts to recline,
alters the color of my eyes
while I talk to an affable glass of wine.

There is no song to play
no words on the blue line,
yet the heart weeps
as I drink another glass of wine.

– Kritika Vashist

(October, 2014)