aditi's simple thoughts (original)

New Blog - of the same name as this - which will have all the posts this does, and combines my other blog, along with other ideas I've had and wanted to share: aditi's simple thoughts - new

“EVERY LITTLE THING” FADE IN: SCENE I: INT. - FAMILY DINING ROOM We see AMANDA, an average woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and serious eyes, struggling to keep her children, JACOB (7 years old), and MADDIE (5 years old), in check. Her husband, JOHN (brunette with broad shoulders), eats wordlessly. AMANDA Maddie, put the doll away! No, she can’t eat with you; and she’ll be put away for the rest of the year if you don’t keep her away now! No arguments! Jacob, for the love of God, put your shirt back on. Amanda SIGHS heavily. Maddie reluctantly puts her doll away and sits down angrily. Jacob appears, shirt back on, with his baseball bat, and starts going around randomly hitting objects, including the table and a chair. Amanda pulls the baseball bat out of Jacob’s hand, tossing it away. It lands with a CLANG. Amanda then roughly pulls a worn-looking chair out from the table; it makes a violent SCREECHING noise. She wordlessly points to the seat. Jacob, after ...

Every life is a story Waiting to be written Every page turned is a memory We can look back at And as we keep flipping through this book More details appear before us In this book, every sentence is a second A record of a feeling long since gone The sentences add up Filling in the pages that are still blank Marking the time we have existed As the clock keeps ticking We do not know what the next page holds But we have Our collection from before And throughout this life The only thing we can call our own  Are those pages we keep in our mind Our pages are limited, yet our stories are untold We must make the most out of them  Because someday, when our books are completed And we are not there to read them These aging bound pages Will be all that is left of us

Anger is red Beautiful and deadly It wreaks havoc With no determined end Passion is orange All-consuming and blind It drives you forward Until the ground gives way Content is yellow Peaceful and bright It lures you in An enchanting dream Sickness is green Disgusting and vile It holds you in its death grip Fingers tightening like a noose Hope is blue Mirror of the sky It keeps you afloat Makes you soar Indigo is fear Irrational and deep It pulls you back A shadow in your mind Pride is violet Arrogance and ego It chains you to the top With silver words and golden trophies Death is black Dark and empty It counts down like a bomb An ugly truth White is life Pure and unadulterated It’s a million miracles A beautiful lie

Fear We keep it to ourselves Even as it plagues us in our slumber Even when it rises with the morning sun Anger We explode with our emotions An uncontrollable reality Of what we can become Rumination Fruitless nights spent on thoughts that collide A tendency to look At the half-empty glass And you ask why I can't sleep?

Mirror mirror Covered in blood Tell me your secrets Tell me your sins Forever changing  Illusions rearranging  All is fair in love and war And this is a bit of both Mirror mirror Hidden in smoke Tell me your secrets Tell me your sins Fractured path of silver and gold Don't make me choose which to follow Peace of mind; once a reality Now visits in the sweetest of dreams Mirror mirror On the wall Who, truly is The fairest of us all?

I walk afraid Of the future And what it holds I walked haunted By the past And the stories untold I walk timidly In the present Broken eggshells flaked with gold I walk Forevermore On this road With no end With no beginning

i have been thinking  about the pits underneath my feet i have been thinking about the clouds in the overcast sky i have been thinking about the path crumbling steadily, in a mysterious beat  i have been thinking  about the tears left to cry

        Ah, summer break! A time for beaches, for pool parties, for vacations... and for ice cream.          I was sitting near the window with my father as we enjoyed our little cups of perfection in the nearest Coldstone Creamery. The not-quite numbing coffee ice cream and crunchy Heath bar crumbs and pecans kept my mind and mouth very busy, so there was very little conversation.          As I stared out of the window to my side, I saw a blind man cross the road to a ultramarine blue car, his stick tap-tap-tapping against the tar as he walked. A man and woman, who had come out with him, unlocked the car, and the three prepared to head off.          As they stood by, a gleaming white Ford Mustang rolled in, stopping briefly in front of the creamery before rolling along to find an empty parking spot.          Just your everyday parking lot scene. ...

        The school bus slowly pulled to a stop in front of the main office. I sighed, staring out of the window as my mind roamed languidly, unable to focus on anything and still slightly sleep-addled. The sixth grade end of the bus was unnaturally empty, comprised of three occupants instead of the usual quantity. Of course, this stop meant two more students for our end, but that was hardly the point.         As the bus slowly filled in to its usual amount, I noticed a sight that made something in my chest (most probably my almost-nonexistent heart) twist. A man was ushering a very  young child to the bus, smiling. Now, this isn't uncommon: plenty of parents see their children off to school in the morning, especially since this is such a big stop.          But what caught my attention was the man himself. He walked rather strangely, to put it bluntly. He would always start with his right foot, then swing his left ...

A single leaf On a barren twig A single twig On a weathered tree A single tree In a crowded wood A single blade of grass Shadowed 'neath the tree A single deer Lonely and lost A single cloud Drifting aimlessly A single bird Calling for a friend A single mind Visualizing the scene A single soul Feeling

In and out And about again Weaving through life's Shenanigans Boil and bubble Each new trouble Cycle through day By day By day

A friend A saviour A chauffeur A guide An enemy A curse A gift An equal

We meet again My dear old friend, In the land of peace and sun. We met when I Was born anew, Thirsty for a mother's love. We meet right now As the sun goes down Along with my final breath. And we'll meet once more At life's open door To start all over again.

Knowing the  Unknown I'd rather face The tortures of Hell Than live to tell tales of nothing I'd rather know How twisted the world is Than live blind to all mistakes I'd rather feel The sting of pain Than be blissfully unaware And thus Be one To Knowing the unknown

Snow falling, Landing on the shingled overhangs, Sticking like glue; A small piece of A large puzzle.

Maybe if, We all gave A little more time From our Lives, The world Would be A b etter Place.

A poem that has been sitting in my Google Docs for quite a while now. Written fro a prompt given to the class by my fifth grade teacher: What is your most treasured item and why? It was originally a piece of prose, but I turned it into poetry instead. Pencil Long, Hard, Easily broken. Grows shorter As it's used. Expressing Freely, Making its mark. Never ending color Gracing each sheet. Line by line, Shape by shape, Word by word, A pencil that can change the world.

A PTA/PTO funded annual project, called Reflections, was presented at my school. I decided to take part in it, submitting a drawing and a poem for this year's theme: Within Reach . Here is the poem, titled Almost . Almost Aditi Bhattamishra So close. So very close. So tantalizingly close. A couple more inches. A couple more steps. A couple more hopes. A couple more dreams. A few more falls. A few more burns. A few more hurdles. A few more tears. I see it. I see the light. Almost there. I’m almost there. Almost.