where it all began

Hearth, in its earlier days, came out in form of a newsletter. while the magazine was a tedious, more strenuous affair and was periodical, Hearth never depended itself on time and was published whenever an incessant need to do so was felt- be it some political or literary incident or the opening of a new joint in the city -
as a famous philosopher once said, we are not prisoned by time but by clocks, we must accept our ruins and our downfalls. true poetry and literature will come out of those.
The cover of the blog is called "LOVERS" and has been clicked by eminent poet and photographer Anurag Vats


Poems of Shristi

Shristi is one of the budding poets from Patna University. in the process of finding her voice, she feels that writing helps in releasing stress and gives her a kind of  pleasure that nothing else can provide.

Here are few of her poems.


It’s ironical,
Day’s termination in west,
And the downfall of time,
Both has a touch of red,
The former enhances the sky’s shade,
While the latter incites blue, which dreads,
Though both are magical,
Both has a fixed spell,
Of first we are familiar,
But of second we have no clue, One lull,
Other knocks down imparting fear,
Still death is a road to incarnation,
Sunset is a hope of new inception.


I peeped at my intimate part,
I found splurging emotion,
And  uncovered an innocuous heart,
Devoid of worldly passion.
I pined to walk on the path of past,
A road on which I was surrounded,
My hands were never deserted,
I had an immature brain,
I cried for paper boat in rain,
Mud satisfied my hunger,
I played with dolls,
How cute was that mind insane,
I wish to plunder away those days,
I long for my life,
I desire my infancy,
I merely pine for my childhood.