- A Bejewelled Tiara
I hadn’t seen the heart of your teardrop
It glistened with a magnetic sheen
Poised like a dainty dew drop on your damask cheek
Distilled emotions swimming in your brimming eyes
Crushed in the pepper mill of your grief
Each moonbeam reflecting a bejewelled tiara
- The Purple Veil
The purple veil lifted with eloquent panache
It wasn’t always that you held your breath in awe
Each emotion minced into curried splendor
Stubborn Hope bobbed on dashing breakers
Desire lay sluggishly beneath shady eaves
Angst burst its own temples with throbbing pain
Passion paraded in puerile pandemonium
Envy ogled with vicious green eyes
Patience posed in its perennial poise
As the sun surfed over the dappled horizon
Murmuring tender love words in an orange haze
- The Flesh Rebelled
A blackened sky
A dappled ray
Of misty moonlight
Doused in star-spangled mystery
Dawn was waiting in the wings
An orange orb of flaming fire
Peeping above the painted sky
Creeping up the earthly staircase
The flesh rebelled
The eyes groaned
The lips pouted
Till mortal life ebbed away
- Women’s Day Rumblings
To be a woman
Is not about the bow shape of the lips
The almond gleam of oceanic eyes
Or the sheen of chocolate cascading tresses
No aquiline nose will stamp your feminity
No sway of voluptuous curves will elevate your stature
It’s more about your calming presence
As the first blush of dawn on ebony clouds
Your silent support like a soothing comforter
Your hand to soothe a child’s brow
Your gentle nudge for a faltering step
Your arms around an insecure human
To be a woman is to be a goddess incarnate one day
And walk in bashful humility the next
To often throw caution to the winds
And dance the Tandav on shards of glass.
- A Nude Branch
Fruits of an ageing winter
Bravely adorning a nude branch
Bereft of verdant bedspreads
Facing onslaughts of thunderous rain
Welcoming flurries of ephemeral soft snow
Do you see yourself in their valiant stance
Trudging through gullies of muted light
Dust-encased memories dangling from bare trunks
Eyes searching for receding horizons
Emblazoned with slashes of oozing wounds
Winter is just spring in disguise
Keeping bulbs and seeds buried beneath its icy chest
A woman pretending to be frigid
With a simmering inferno biding its time
Lily Swarn, International Beat Poet Laureate for India in 2023-2024 and recipient of Caesar Vallejo Award for literary excellence by UHE, is an internationally acclaimed, multilingual poet, novelist, essayist, columnist, gold medalist, university colour holder, radio show host, and Peace and Humanity ambassador. She and has over 70 international and national awards including the Chandigarh Sahitya Akademi award. Her poetry is translated into 21 languages. She can be reached at su*******@***il.com