Author Archives: Nalini Srivastava

About Nalini Srivastava

I am an Indian.I write to let go of myself.It is my catharsis.My biggest inspiration is my son and every passing moment of life.I am a teacher by profession and the way I love to write ,I love to teach.With my one solo poetry book already published "Feminine Musings" hope many more will see the light.

Be My Valentine

At the beach side
Or at the roof top,
When I am lonely,
Looking at setting sun
Of my ending life,
Be my valentine.

When even family
Leaves my side.
When I am free from rush
But caught in strife.
When I forget to cheer myself
Be my valentine.

When I start to forget,
What is yours or mine.
I start missing wishing days
And my strength is on decline,
When frowns replace laughterlines
Be my valentine.

When my giggling eyes
Are replaced by lost look.
When i forget to turn off the stove
And I burn off the things to cook.
When I deserve the least to be your darling
Will you be valentine?

Hurtful shards of tears

Ouch!

It hurt my feet and my heart too
The Invisible tears that fell down
Last night when you left.
The vaccum temporarily filled
Was left open gaping wide.
Loneliness ran in my veins,
And tore me apart.
Few drops of red and countless fading grey,
Kohl rimmed eyes, now just a smudged blot.
Red lips wiped into a sluttish droopy grin,
The peak left me in Abyss of pain.
The shards of tears that refuse to go,
Dig deeper their claws in my heart
Wherever I go.

The lasting colorful last moments

When I breathe my last,
I want nature to break its mourning fast.
Sun will burst into its orange hues
And the night will cry
But in its peacock blues.
The sea green will be tiara on my head
And crimson yellow daffodils, my bed.
Pink rosy tulips will wave me goodbye
And blues of the sea and sky
Cry out a dewy pearly white Hi!
It would be a dusky grey day
Rains will weave music in black and white
I will have bridal red dawn as my last night…

If I die tonight

If I die tonight
Here is my will ,my beloved .
My memories just belong to you
And my ashes to be dug in my garden.
When the spring will come,
They will bloom with fragrances
And in autumn,
They will lie embedded
In the soil ,inside a fallen leaf.
In the winter,they will stir
Inside the buds of poppy
But in the summers,
Put some shade in a corner
And I will rest there till I bloom again.
Do not preserve my memorabilia
Unless You want me to haunt around.
But yes,my home and your heart
Will be my abode forever
Whether you want or not.

A New Year Can Begin Any Day

A new year can be started any day,

Start and count three hundred and sixty five days

And it makes it a new year in progress.

Relish the first drop of dew,

And treasure those who truly love you.

The ones who don’t,

They simply don’t exist now on,

And heart is not allowed to ache for those who are gone.

The ones who left the world

Continue to live in memories, shining bright

And if you are alone this day,

Come on! It is just alright.

So start counting to three hundred and sixty five

And we will meet again on the other side.

Penniless Christmas

A smile hid behind frown on her forehead
As she searched her coat pockets
An empty wrapper, few tin balls
A faded photo about to crumble…
Then she searched her tin box
Faded dresses, inexpensive trinkets
Still no valuable in sight.
As she tossed her thick manes
Away from her face
A smile decked off her face.
The Christmas eve saw a tattered
old christmas tree with few gifts
Wrapped in colorful rags
Despite being penniless
Her kids would smile…

Tick tock tick…

The clock moves on tick tock tick.
Sometimes the cuckoo chimes in,
At other just the bell.
I keep watching
The pair of hands moving
Meeting just twice
And then they continue the journey
Tick tock tick.. To meet again..
We both are like that too.
We continue walking on the path
Meeting once or twice
But our love never pales
It keeps us moving,
Fulfilling duties, and walking
The path of life
Tick tock tick.

This Children’s Day and beyond

This children s day
This year this day and every passing day here after
I want to nurture the child in me
And all the children all around.
Children young and not so young
Caught in the ambush of information overload
The media snipers and Us, the adults
Take frequent shots at their innocence.
Too much too soon is never a boon.
Let them breathe, the blooms around,
Enjoying lilting melody of nature’s sound.
No overburdened smile less kids.
No children to be working on roads,
Selling balloons, and toys but having none of their own.
Don’t burn the live effigy of these innocent souls
Let them be just a child just in itself let them be whole.
Lets not impose our unfulfilled dreams on them
Lets send them to schools, not to work and earn on their own.
Only earning for them should be endless bags of happy memories
No limits too short or too high
Just let them enjoy how, what, who and why…

Hospital Diaries ( Part 2 )

As he wheezed and the pump pumped on,
The ventilator beeped somewhere and breathed its last.
The fire doused new bride felt her dreams
Ebbing away
As her burns marked end of glittery dreams.
She saw all , uttered nothing ,
As she remembered her journeys to the hospital,
Twenty years ago.
Then it was for ailing father,
To be operated mother,
Or the dearest grandmother
dying in coma .
She still remembered the pungent spirit
And she liked the smell!
Today when she is rubbed with
Same spirit,she didnt relish it though.
From the days of endless waiting out of ICU
For a dear aunt
To the nights
Now she spent alone,
She matches her breaths
Sometimes with the ticking clock
Or the laboured breaths of next bed patients…
As she counts days to be out of her misery
And the lonely dreamless nights.

Hospital Diaries ( Part 1 )

As she counted minutes to morning

She could hear the neighbor patient breathing his last.

She tried to drown the silent whispers

Of death singing lullaby to the departing soul.

She waited eagerly for the birds to chirp again

And the silent ray of dusk knocking at the door.

Days were easy to pass in the rush rush noisy actions

The doctors making rounds and nurses repeating the chores

Visitors making rounds to pamper and to console

Some dared to crack jokes while others sighed waiting for the results of the tests.

Lying alone on the bed she had learned to enjoy all the noise and din

Nights were tough.

All you could hear was pronounced sound of medical instruments.

The pain not so subdued and strange shadows doing rounds to chose the next victim.