Soft-toys have their own world

And regardless of my hatred towards soft-toys,
I opened a cupboard of lil girl last night,
Some piled on teddy bears,
Buttoned eyes and elevated noses,
Different skins and peels,
And very different they appeal.
And zoozoo do communicate,
Doreamon without dora cakes,
A ferocious tiger who stayed away.

Bride wait for her beloved with all the
love bestowed in her eyes,
And a parrot accompanied her,
Like flounder accompanied Aerial,
And the monkey around Aladdin.
Alas, I learned every character is an animal lover,
Like the real heroes who save them.




And those with wigs off from the head,
due to certain cancer,
Were exploring some corner,
Introspecting the world in silence,
Deep and deeper.
Whereas, other succumbs
in the polyethenes and bags,
And uncovered love in life,
Who unexplored and lively dead.

And some xenoplasties and transplanted legs,
Thrown boots and thrown shoes,
The innocent victims of blast,
The survivals to their last.

And some scholars after convocations,
Of their graduations and masters,
The tripping of cycles,
The spokes circled their history,
The tangents made by the Tyre,
On the road of vertical balancing.

It's time to be kid again,
After you grow up.
It's time to learn the selfless thou,
After shedding the lessons of ethics
From this professional world.

It's time to be kid again,
To let the child take birth again.
And now I realised that softoys,
Have their own world!


-Swati Sevlani
(Just tried a child poetry for the first time.)

Leaving your city in the dark

Anger spread like poison in the blood,
The venomous fangs of her,
Bitten and forgotten every minute..
The cheeks flushed, heart burned,
The morbid desires of being close,
Never happened in any fortnight.
Lost in the strange city,
Anonymous to the known faces,
I hardly speak and hardly could smile,
When everyone see me grinning,
Showing white teeth like absolute bunny.
Obsessed by the single picture,
Possessive for single soul of society,
The glasses started shrinking,
Turning more of spherical,
Both shortsightedness and farsightedness,
Fixing her at particular distance for vivid vision,
I can't come close, I don't even let distances grew...

Chopped words, carved gestures,
Diplomatic replies and many a times silence plays better.
Loose lipped heart slipping between her eyes and my loose tongue,
Chromes of layers and layers of unexpressed love,
Some morbid dead emotions and her connotations,
The silent conspiracy of fading away from your life,
Resting caged cardiac in the cradle,
Perplexed I,
Living in your city in the dark,
Leaving your city in the dark,
Leaving your city this midnight.

Swati
All copyrights reserved.

Dussehra

Every atom was prayed well,
And every particle is drowned in water now..
Earlier prayed with fire,
Is settling in aqua now..

And the process of praying durgaji, Ganesha keep going. We bring them and we submerged them in a water pot. Just because its the phenomenon of learning attachments and detachments. Attaching ourselves to the garland, flowers, prayers and the idols are not worth until you realise their significance in real life. Pray the god which is in the ether around you.

Happy Dussehra!

Smile

And the corners of her lips stretched slowly as if it contains an era of happiness and centuries of joy....
The lips stretched themselves at its best and eyes of viewers were closing so slowly, in an intention to freeze her every curve and turn of her lips...
She said "hey" and people called her darling...the witty...and the beauty of her ancient origin...
Yes...she was never angry but when she smiled the world seems delighted, the Mozart in disguise plays thousand times, the painting exhibited weeps and cries, the ecstasy of heart takes it to some farland...
Her smile unveils million dollars of joy, a pinch of pain and the acceptance she had towards her life....
Her pictures communicates and her eyes are capricious enough to make anyone smile....
Strange that use of 17 muscles while smiling is making her more biologically beautiful... Strange that she hardly can frown on anyone...
Someday a smile transplantation will be carried out instead of smile making dentistry process and people will surely asks for her smile..

Why can't we kiss a smile? Why can't we find a smile in the drawer or somewhere else? Why smile is like software of computer which you can't hold but it does it job well...

Smile is something strange...she is someone who is not stranger...
Smile is keeping viewers close to her and I wish she smiles for all her life...

I don't know where the world is going!

I don't know where the world is going. 21 grams of love, 90 decibels of shouting, 0 carat of faith, life in super-fast pace, where the food is fast and fasting people eat. 

I really don't know where the world is going. Mini notebooks, microphones and nano size heart, where the crime journalism is progressing because more than half of the world is hating and less than half of watching them in news channels.

I don't know where the world is going. When I stand at terrace late at night, all the lights are on and few are sleeping and when its high time to race during morning, almost everyone is asleep and I am alone walking.

I don't know where the world is going. People connects but hardly talk, people talk but hardly get connects to each other. The family is like the problem pieces of atoms and we are searching molecules outside.

I don't know where the world is going!

-SSS 

102nd Post on this blog

Gone Away!

     Dark Poetry by Swati Sevlani

(This is 101th poem of my blog "Ink Pen" now is named after me.)

I want to thank Alexandre, Analia, Dianne, Arpna and Elvy for regular feedbacks on my blog. I miss you guys and will always miss you. I am very upset that sometimes, writing so many things, no one read them. This things upsets more when someone is blogging. I will keep blogging.

Bit upset these days and months and from last couple of years. Not able to overcome, don't know why. But, I thought to write it here as diaries don't exist now because we are habitual to share things with human and don't even have a worthy friend with whom I can share.

Enjoy this post and rest I will be writing and updating until it goes next 200 posts on my blogs.

Love you all!

Because I can't bear the Pain.

I am not made to please you, asks you, love you...

I am not the one who will mold according to you,

And try to be in platonic love,

I am a human, I do have emotions,

Needs, desires and calories..

I am in pain, I am getting grilled,

To serve a roasted toast to you.

But this is an end, that was an end,

To serve you with gender discrimination,

With burned emotions,

And blood of brain,

And I am getting back to my own world,

Because I can't bear this pain,

I can't bear this pain.

The things will end,

And there will be light someday,

You won't be in the memoirs,

The white fade out dreams,

Will meet to the ground,

Where there will be no love,

No You and I,

And there will be no Pain. 

And someday, when I will think of you,

I will realize that it was not you,

The same yellow light I met,

The same red burst out roses,

The same soul,

And I will make myself comfort,

And I will be comfortably numb,

Thinking it was fearful symmetry,

And it was Virginia wolf's work,

Which connected you to me,

And I ll silently be silent again,

To depart and go back,

In my world again,

Because I can't bear the pain,

Because I can't bear the pain.

-Swati Shobha Sevlani

(After so long time)

Thoughts to Pour

Sacrifices after Sacrifices,
Adjustments after Adjustments,
Tears after Pain,
Demands after Desires.
The Unending Human Demands
And Unending Unsatisfied Supply!

Lost Lasting Prayers,
When Turns to Objects,
And Faith Arises 
After Heartbreaks.
The Favors comes,
With Beast and the War.
The Tongue Tied
Speaks Loud in Silence.
The Lighten Room
While Midnight.
The Rejection 
Happens only in Love.
The Acceptance Occurs
Only in Drugs.

The Apathy is Empathy now,
The sympathy is Gaining now.
The Words have killed their Effect,
The Superficial Pseudo Impact.

Thoughts of the Things,
Never Existed Before.
Blind Human not Ready to
See the Real Concourse.
Poetry is Least Sell,
However more Preferred.

Old Wine kept Behind
All the Curtains.
Red is the Seductive 
And White is Serene.
Then Why White Wine,
Over Red one.

People Love but
They never Trust.
Although, Trust loss,
Is Love Loss.

Devastating Floods,
Quakes and Cracks.
Lonely Nights and
Grunting Wolves.
Barking Dogs and
Unseen Moon.
Transparent Sun
And Late Mornings.
Fatigue, Engrossed,
And Calm Defined.

Books are Old,
Advises are New.
Versions and Updates,
Author Remains the Same.

Thought to Pour,
Served in Porcelain.
Pepper, Chilly Flakes,
And Uneaten Food. 


-SSS

The Hermit

I failed and fell down, I decided to measure the depths of my failures and I always wanted to go abyss. I wanted to kill my emotions and every motion. I always wanted to be static in the deep ocean and feels like meditation. I decided not to push away anything and let me fall, deep inside, myself and from this superficial world. I dive underwater and underbody and undersoul. Now, I have realised that I have to come up, come out from all this to see my fight with superficial world and I am turned to a saint and hypocrite, a lover and critic of this world, a drunken wine and serene water.

~~The Hermit~~

SWati Shobha Sevlani

(Constructing Tarot Themes)

All Copyrights Reserved, 2013

The Last Leaf

"The Last Leaf"

(From the garden of home)

Dainik Bhaskar covering my story insight

Dainik Bhaskar, City Bhaskar, Indore
Dated 8th June, 2013.

Newly Introduced

My Old Introduction:

Some say SSS, some say Swati. Different tags from everyone. Angles are many and changed with every single degree. Time is different and fate varies with every second. I don't know the exact introduction but I know the soul existing in me.

I am a die hard fan of my own. I just love myself..

I am damn crazy to learn from incidences. The incidences on which I experiment, the learning's from those who pass by and mixed bag of experiences are everything in my life.

I am not involved in shopping the jewels and make-ups as I feel comfortable in my original skin, but I certainly love to purchase good attires while shopping. 

Don't like my hair still obsessed with new hair cuts. 

I love to laugh, live and love.

But turn off to hates, lies and drugs.
I simply rove around different places. Seeing sunrises, sunsets, photography, art, cuisines, animals, nature and water bodies.

I am bit complicated human being with a long mandatory Bucket List. :)

I take too long to learn the things. But I never stop to explore :) :)

My New Introduction:

I bleed the ads, find the gold in the Gutters of newspapers, I run masthead and tie Belly Band around the bundle of newspaper so that people can see the exploring ads.
I do voice overs to real stories and keep my script very tight, making a package of stories left behind.
The plots are very intense whereas I am a Railroad Editor, who puts the newspapers on the bed before getting stories done. 

I am an advertisers, brochure maker, a flag news-maker who avoids bumped heads for your monotony and spend most of my folios in research work. 

I only write scoop stories, the kicker headlines, the quick-witty things of life. 

My room is like a morgue filled with old memoirs and old stories in the form of tabloids. The walls runs without medals and trophies but consist of experiments. 

I prefer FP4C advertisements and believe in making you famous. 

My index of life is bit poor but you the story is always undercover. 

I don't know about the lens and shutter speed instead I love to click.

I don't have animals in my home but I love them more and more.
To take my RSS, subscribe to me, follow me or read my blogs because there is nothing lucid in this worlds except death and birth in my pieces of writing.
An exclusive bureau chief or a maiden copywriter, an emotional poet or a fake lover, I am simply me. 

And I just love to print, writer, get published and get covered by the magazines that never exists in this world. 

A tabloid board of every day makes a broadsheet life with some Berliner Europic styles of conflicts. 

Yes, I am crazy for writing and all is copy-right. 

So beware of whistle-blowers, dog-watchers and correspondents like me.

Dissolve

The flaunting hearts of all aged love. The chocked voice after being in love. The stubborn of being melancholy.The slaves of lost hearts. The chaos of being together again. The definition of kin is still the same. The feelings undergoes permanent change. The silent wishes are whispered in dark nights. Gone with the time, the memory was. A strong piece of reminiscence of passing away of a soul. The detachments are being rolled. The soul rest in peace or not, who knows. The monsters comes in dream for many shows. The night is long and its not that terrific. The morning starts getting dissolved in the night.

Pack Up!

No true love coming from anywhere. Locked up in dark. The words are so shallow. Life seems so superficial. People are fake. How can soul be real. Songs have lost their meanings. Work piled up on table. I usually forget to turn off the night lamp. The friends are distant. The poetry is undone on last page. The last pages are diary. Sometimes like a corporate slave. Former pages with schedules and last pages with pain and emotions. I write to you. You were a wandering soul like me. I writes to you because I was alive with you. The third grade tea from chai stall settled us in the bottom of sea of life in that unwashed, microbe infected cup. Life was beautiful because we talked about the nonsense things. Non sense was important. Wasted my life in gaining my senses. And I write to you on every bill we gathered from restaurant and food courts. Because writing one liner was more worth then the amount payed on that bill. Yes, she treasured in her satchel. A best friend blessed me fikraaa. Without any fikr of jahan. 

But I wrote only once a day. I write more than one time to few people. :)

Times of India Blogging Article

I feel so proud to say that my blogs "Ink Pen" and "This Friday Releases" were part of today's coverage in the "Times of India" Sunday Special Edition of Indore dated 31 March, 2013. Very happy that number of visitors increased from this morning early. Also want to thank Pallavi who took my telephonic interview for this.

And yes, thanks to the visitors who kept on giving feedback. :)

P.S. First time, my blogs are getting read by the the people who read newspapers.

horizon love

Come with me,
To a place,
Where there is a horizon,
Which never comes,
But sees close to us!
Where we will walk,
Till the end and
The horizon will never come,
To next many births and
We would promise to be
With each other,
Forever and ever,
Like a horizon spread across the sky,
Through the globe and
Surrendered in universe,
For universal love.

(left writing poetry, trying my hand again after long time)

Writing is the only love I am left with

Though the collective ideas and known faces are bleeding  inside my brain, I think of only one thing i.e. "The Purpose of Life". Everyone is feeling BLANK these days, if not BLANK, they feel BLEU but why they don't find a rainbow spectrum or the white light of their dreams, of their purposes.

I am not writing because writing helps me to get into dilemma. Writing helps me to seek my questions, and I am not writing because I want to be in touch with questions for a long time. I want to be in the interrogating sections where I must intrigue with myself, I must argue myself and I must face the truth unseen and voices unheard. The vibes are always good but instincts says something else too.