Silly pages! Poor Papers!

To the thousand pieces torn from A3, A4 sizes of paper..
And sometimes half of A4 fixed in some spiral diaries,
Getting detached with the stretching holes...

Thank you for carrying my silly poems, 
Thank you for making me good to previous one...

Thanks for removing some unwanted weeds growing in my mind and some useful emotions which were about to reap...

Thank you paper and pages for not having ears to hear all those stupid things and creeps and creeps...

Thank you paper and pages for listening my every poetic needs..

Thank you silly pages and paper to get expired when I ask you to die...

Thank you poor you, for bringing a death to the poet in me.

-SSS
Copyrights, 2014

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)

Darkness is tough

It was a touch, a word and a breathe,
It was someone, my own around.
I felt a familiar effort and
a sound of comfort.
The darkness is tough,
the darkness is tough.
My senses can sense
with more sensitivity and
my ears, more audible,
when my own is around.
The touch, the words and
the steps with silence.
The moonwalk it seems
and suddenly disappears.
This darkness is tough
and it is tough.

Professionalism

Here people with tie, jackets, polished shoes,

Limited talks, lengthy cars and designations,

But those were the sweet days,

To cherish when we played

In mud with

Feel of

Selfless.