compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com

Compulsive Scribbles

Monday, November 25, 2013. He said, "I see you growing up.". And suddenly I realised,. The drops of Youth were beginning to. Dry on the rim of the Life's cup. There is silver in the clouds dark. That were once tresses. And lines of life and heart are on the cheeks, not palm, alongside my birthmark. My large heart and narrow waist. And strongest in my mouth amidst all others. Is this new acrid taste:. Yes, I'm growing up. We don't see each other any more. No sir, we don't see eye to eye. Nay, far from it.

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Compulsive Scribbles | compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com Reviews

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Monday, November 25, 2013. He said, I see you growing up.. And suddenly I realised,. The drops of Youth were beginning to. Dry on the rim of the Life's cup. There is silver in the clouds dark. That were once tresses. And lines of life and heart are on the cheeks, not palm, alongside my birthmark. My large heart and narrow waist. And strongest in my mouth amidst all others. Is this new acrid taste:. Yes, I'm growing up. We don't see each other any more. No sir, we don't see eye to eye. Nay, far from it.

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1 compulsive scribbles

2 growing up

3 have exchanged place

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5 nishtha

6 5 comments

7 email this

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9 share to twitter

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compulsive scribbles,growing up,have exchanged place,posted by,nishtha,5 comments,email this,blogthis,share to twitter,share to facebook,share to pinterest,love and i,no comments,et cetera,diwali,the peacock bra,remembering and cherishing,labels apathy

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Compulsive Scribbles | compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com Reviews

https://compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com

Monday, November 25, 2013. He said, "I see you growing up.". And suddenly I realised,. The drops of Youth were beginning to. Dry on the rim of the Life's cup. There is silver in the clouds dark. That were once tresses. And lines of life and heart are on the cheeks, not palm, alongside my birthmark. My large heart and narrow waist. And strongest in my mouth amidst all others. Is this new acrid taste:. Yes, I'm growing up. We don't see each other any more. No sir, we don't see eye to eye. Nay, far from it.

INTERNAL PAGES

compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com

1

Compulsive Scribbles: December 2012

http://compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com/2012_12_01_archive.html

Thursday, December 20, 2012. Blank Stares: Of Rape and Rehab. 8220; Mumma meri Kummo se baat karogi? 8221; (Mother, will you talk to my Kummo? My mother has been running a school in what can be called one of the most backward districts in Uttar Pradesh. Whenever I get too busy in my professional ‘shenanigans,’ I send Nyasa to her grandparents where she can be taken care of in a much better manner. All the parties involved love this arrangement. Including Kummo. 8220;Stop being so judgmental,” she d...

2

Compulsive Scribbles: It All Ended There

http://compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com/2013/09/it-all-ended-there.html

Friday, September 27, 2013. It All Ended There. A bullet pierced his heart and it all ended there. No, not the battle. For he was a soldier mere. The last breath he took had the whiff of his daughter's shampoo. Am I just imagining it all or is this what people really do? Inhaling their lifetime in that last breath. Content perhaps,then, and they embrace death? She, who called him not to share trivia every evening. But to ensure that his pulse was still running,. She laid beside him in the pool of blood,.

3

Compulsive Scribbles: Et Cetera

http://compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com/2013/11/et-cetera.html

Monday, November 25, 2013. Show-worthy things get mentioned, while the rest clubbed as 'and the rest.'. Et cetera is not irrelevant. Nay, far from it. Acknowledged in anonymity,. Et ceteras are your being in collectivity. Nobody knows the pain of being pushed to margins. More than the et ceteras. Et cetera is the demure wife of a sailor. Patiently weaving the yarns of desire. Only to unravel them in the nights sapphire. Et cetera never speaks, never complains,. You bundle it out to the margins where.

4

Compulsive Scribbles: June 2012

http://compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com/2012_06_01_archive.html

Saturday, June 30, 2012. Tonight I'll Write My Saddest Song. Tonight I’ll write my saddest song. The refrain is dipped in tears and them moist sighs. That reach the threshold of your heart, cold as a steel blade,. And die knocking, thumping and stamping. The song will begin with a sweet melody. That we hummed together and made ours. In the dead of the night, when the crickets ruled the world. The Princess of Dawn dared not disturb us, and the Moon dropped in our eyes. I dread it the most now. 8220;There'...

5

Compulsive Scribbles: Love and I

http://compulsivescribbles.blogspot.com/2013/11/love-and-i.html

Monday, November 25, 2013. We don't see each other any more. No sir, we don't see eye to eye. He used to stay just down the street where I paced every evening. Love, was his name, and he had eyes mischievous yet stunning. He caught my eye, once in a while, and tipped his cap. And suddenly one day, my heart was his, as if in a snap. We walked the clouds, we sailed the blues. With our destinies, we made a truce. A lifetime later I found him gone. I waited for him from dusk to morn. He is not to be trusted.

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Compulsive Scribbles

Monday, November 25, 2013. He said, "I see you growing up.". And suddenly I realised,. The drops of Youth were beginning to. Dry on the rim of the Life's cup. There is silver in the clouds dark. That were once tresses. And lines of life and heart are on the cheeks, not palm, alongside my birthmark. My large heart and narrow waist. And strongest in my mouth amidst all others. Is this new acrid taste:. Yes, I'm growing up. We don't see each other any more. No sir, we don't see eye to eye. Nay, far from it.

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