Wipe it off!

Courtesy: Google Images

Your dry lips were beautiful than,
The bold red lipstick on it,
Wipe it off, you had the beautiful face.

Take off that mask,
And the unusual shades,
Why you are so packed in your handbags?

Lady, woman, female,
Gentle lady, obsolete soul,
Why you are still so same?

Wet smudged eyes,
Your big eyes are divine,
But, why they always cries?

You earn, learn and move,
You revere, smile, greet,
And how your residues remain?

Break the string for a second,
Relace yourself in the arms,
And teach us how to deal with falls?

Lady, wipe it off,
The stuff you cart as burden,
You are absolute with a genuine heart.

-SWati Shobha Sevlani
Copyrights, 2014

The Long Way Back Home

Where the edges and corners of rocks turn smooth, 

And star accompanies me at their best till morning,

Until the dark vanishes and sun breaks the dawn.

Where the love is associated with selfless things and cups of being high priestess..

Where the motherhood ends with lullaby and without lullaby.

Yes, I am back to home,

The long way back home.

Not alone but the place of solitude,

Where the words don't ends in poetry and sonnets.

And expressions of winters ends by embracing the warmth of the heart,

Yes, I am back to home,

The long way back home. 

-Swati Shobha Sevlani

Copyrights, 2014

Seasons of Life

When despaired black clouds,
Pointed out at me,
Natives shout like cloud thunders.
Life seems dirty stagnant water,
I became a waterspout in Tornado.

Yet there were lightings,
To direct me in the darkness.
Actual “I” was inside raincoat,
To whom no one can see.

Alone, shivering in cold,
Waiting for help on the lone roads.
Soon, I realized, I have to walk alone,
No one is fortunate enough,
To messed up in this pre-cyclone.

Determined, I explained myself,
Cognitively, I started to push myself.
I strong-willed not to stop or
Get erode like soil.

The destiny is too close,
The more far it seems,
As problems stands inch before
The way to the Dew-Success.

I was collapsed and gasped,
And there were deep breaths,
Midway to dry summers and wet winters,
Between the dark clouds and carbon black roads,
Zeal comes from bleeding rainy thoughts.

I did it! I did it!
I got the motive of life.

Alas! I started sweating like Raindrops,
From the clouds of my cuddle heart,
I smiled; blessed with colorful rainbow,
There were raindrops on my cheeks,
Which dried up with the sunshine.


Published in Blogger's Park Issue. Also recited at Cafe Pallete Poetry Group.

MOM: My Dream Lady

AR Kennington Art

(Story depicts the pain of the blind child who tries his best to get glimpse of his unimaginable beautiful mother by his imaginable dreams.)

A lady I see in my dreams,

A tip of powdered vermilion , 

A ray in her parting.

She smiles and she laughs,

While keeping her hand on my shoulders,

To support me.

A lady I see in my dreams,

Who hugs me and kiss me,

Thousand times.

A lady I see in my dreams,

Cooking my favorite dish and tuning

My favorite radio stations every time.

A lady I see in my dreams,

Is beautiful with well arranged tooth,

Like beads of rosary,

With a beautiful smile and

A lovely unseen heart....

A lady I see in my dreams,

Wear the Embroidered bordered sari,

Pleasant scent flowers locked in ringlet,

And clink of her bangles.

A lady I see in my dreams,

The one who gave me birth

To make her life colorful,

Unfortunately, turning Sepia

As I was born blind...

A lady I see in my dreams,

Who is having beautiful eye,

Having lens like me,

Not blind, but divine.

A lady I see in my dreams,

I imagine, I apprehend

I visualize and I love

In my dreams only,

As her real images,

I can never see.

Try to see virtual image,

In my dreams every day. 

Time makes Mime

31st Of December Night 11.55,

hold tight, phone buzz and shout.

1st of January you greet and greet,

the sweetest sweet to eat and eat.

2nd of January you remember the 

31st night party and 1st of January.

3rd of January you wonder,

three days passed to new year.

To every moment of joy,

I felt like 31st December night.

To every awkward moment,

I felt it's just the beginning.

The days and nights were 

punctual to come by time.

I felt, life as a theater

and I am mime.

- Swati Shobha Sevlani