Four poems
A Curtain Raiser
Megalomaniacs rule the world
Nations fall prey to titanic egoes
Wither democracy ?
Art thou asleep , or merely hiding ?
Biding time in your hibernating
This is just the curtain raiser
To a more horrifying era
When black tempests will obliterate life
Blood baths will be the norm
Earth shaking tremors will make humans cave in
The only God worshipped will be Greed
Humans will be heartless but buildings magnificent
Toys will be guns and mothers sold off
The mighty will be in a drunken stupor
And this ?
This is only the Curtain raiser
The Funeral of My Soul
Whenever I kept quiet
While the little boy watched heaps of dirty dishes
Instead of going to school
While the racist kids pulled at my child’s top knot and bullied him
While someone dictated my choice of attire
That was the beginning of the crumbling of my soul
Whenever I silently walked past
An eve teaser making lewd comments at a teenage girl
An ageing mother disrespected and ill treated
A group of eleven year old substance abusers puffing away
That was my soul getting diseased and weak
Whenever I preened and gloated
At material acquisitions
Joining the bandwagon of a vacuous , superficial lifestyle
Letting the haves crush and look
down scornfully at the have nots
I watched the slow decaying of my withered soul
Until one day I stood in the gallery and clapped
At the well attended funeral of my long dead soul
All Hail Nyx
Darkness has a way of preceding the light however fast its speed may be
It lies in ambush wearing its top hat and somber cloak
Mystery and mystique are its middle names
Eliot reminded us that we would never have valued light
If there was no such thing as darkness
Shadows creep in astride witchs’ broomsticks
Alcoves light up with lamps in mud houses
Penury stricken bodies toast limbs on crackling bonfires
As pitch black night enshrouds a sleeping world
Debauchery,thievery,murderous scheming
Are befriended by the ebony night
All Hail Nyx, female personification of Night
Feared by Zeus himself !
Let Ratri rest in Vedic splendour
For darkness has its own sinister agenda
Until I discover my lamp within
Regeneration
I’m not the city of Delhi
That I’ll be regenerated repeatedly
Seven times if one hears correctly
Nor am I a plant or tissue
Waiting to heal and grow back
My sap needs no tapping
Like the rubber tree in the jungle
I have my own resources
That live in my Phoenix heart
I simmer in my ashes
I get bar B cued in my juices
I let the oil bathe me in it’s heat
For I’m the perennial believer
An optimist with a dream
Waking up with a vision
Each new morn with the sun
My wings sprout every day
My flight knows no bounds
Pain is my nutrient
Grief aids my growth
Lily Swarn, our WE Diva of the World and WE Green Heart Awardee 2022, is a multilingual poet, author, columnist, gold medalist, university colour holder, radio show host and Peace Ambassador, writing in different genres. A Trellis of Ecstasy, has received praise as a veritable delight by The Journal of Commonwealth literature in London. The Gypsy Trail, Lilies of the Valley, have been highly appreciated . History on My Plate got rave reviews. She has won over fifty international and national awards like Reuel International Prize for Poetry, Global Icon of Peace, Sahitya Rattan, Gujarat Sahitya Akademi Award, Master of Creative Impulse, Sarojini Naidu Award,Woman of Substance, Kairat Duissenov medal for poetic excellence, Order of Shakespeare Medal among others. Lily’s poetry has been translated into sixteen European and Asian languages and her Urdu ghazals have been set to music. She was recently declared finalist for Global Culture Champion Award by UK’s She Inspires Awards.
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