Author Archives: sweetshalini

About sweetshalini

Shalini Samuel was born in Kanyakumari, southern tip of India. After completing her schooling from St.Teresa’s MHSS, Kanyakumari, she graduated in Information Technology and took her Master’s in Computer Science from Noorul Islam College of Engineering, Kanyakumari. She has been writing poems from her school days. Her poetic pursuits took a pause during her college years.Writing journey of Shalini Samuel started again as a blogger and slowly crept into Muse India. Holding the branches firmly she ventured into poetry. Her poems got published in International journal Tajmahal review and she also contributed to Inklinks anthology. She is currently editing e-magazine Fragrance and more of her poems will be published in journals in near future. Contemporarily she is venturing into fiction and essays too. She has written few poems in her mother tongue Tamil. Her passions include photography, gardening and cooking. She loves to take challenges and learn from it. She is eager to learn and cherish all nook and corner of writing. Here goes the link to her official Facebook Page

The dead touch

Numb hands move over green branches
Trembling soul shudders – bitter cruelty

Scared, the foliage hides under the meadows
Along with the dust of the deceased – to perish

Beyond evil eyes, the seeds find solace
The day of resurgence, they long for

One by one, the fruits go into hiatus
The green succumbs to the dead touch

Alas, killing every inch of life
The dead hand feels the weak twigs

Resurrection of the prey, the dead craves
Through it he wishes to come back alive

Sinless and blameless past he wishes to create
Consequences force him to resuscitate the kill

The dead is dead, it cannot breathe again
Yet the seed rests somewhere in the wild.

The germinated seeds will catch him, one day
When HE forgives- over the passage of time

God and me

Abducting us one day, from our realm
Destroying our memory, gifting life’s helm
He put us in our mother’s womb
Maybe He saved us from an old tomb
He planted us fresh with no baggage
A fresh green veggie, in the garden of cabbage

My gratitude for the well-formed limbs He gave
The senses, the brain, flesh and the skin- I rave,
Everything He gifted me. Out of nothing, He made me.
I am thankful- as a reasoning human, He created me
Remembering He who loves me every second-the omnipresent
I put down these words in gratitude and love, by His feet.

Oh my best friend, best love and best mentor
You are the one who is behind the life I live

A sweet illusion

A petite adolescent
Unwise and ignorant
A sprinkle from ancient cosmic wonder
Dressed in a shimmering attire
Spinning like a kid in flowery frock
Recording and recollecting impressions –
Akin to a corrupt compact disk
Prone to errors and scratches
Never immune from mistakes
I trouble men
Stopping at the crucial time
When and where – a surprise

Who do you think I am?
Your very life,your mind, a memory
Or the world you live in…
Some call me destiny
A sweet illusion – difficult to be deciphered

Dream Castle

I live in a dream castle
White fence
Green pasture
Lavender yellow and crimson
Spread here and there
Colourful is the life I see
A lonely road travels far away
Where it leads to, I venture not
This castle I abandon not
In love with it
I recreate it again and again
Admiring every corner
I paint it with my desire
Some trespasser walks in
And mocks at it
Its a lifeless castle, he said
My dreams do shatter
I abandoned my castle
Orphaned, it lost its sheen
Again a trespasser walks by
He finds beauty in every corner
Again my dream castle wakes up
Once again, I see it smile
I knew then,
opinions – positive or negative
your dream castle is your best
now and forever
Break not it yourself
For its always yours
Keep rejuvenating with varied hues
Put your heart in it
For some day,
akin a caterpillar it would get wings
flying high in the real blue world
Break not thy dream castle

The Infinite Illusion

The Infinite Illusion
A basket swiftly skates on a decorated promenade
Attractive and awesome- akin to glittering Gold
Everyone runs behind, some nonchalantly
Some ardently, the rest anxiously
Flowers and thorns slither through its openings
Though it pricks, the whole world follows to pick
A thorn/flower before it disappears on the slippery aisle
Stuck in a thorn/flower picked long ago
Some men wander forever in the lost lane
In the long run, handing over the baton, men sleep

Running blindly, everyone wants to win the race
But none knows what they are running for
For a blessed life, they dream of- I guess
Oh basket, where are you going, I shout from behind
Men say – “Run, Run, Run or you will be stranded forever
Like a river, the basket never touches the same promenade twice”
Won’t the droplets come back to the same river as rain?
Linear it is because limited is our life and memory
We will meet it again and again in the same promenade
Isn’t it a infinite illusion? Time, you keep running;
Let me stop, walk slowly and enjoy the walk.

Broken Spirit


I try to reconstruct the temple you broke

I take the broken bricks

Keep it one by one

Whatever I do it still remains unfinished




None admires this broken boat

I try to paint it anew

the rusty rods I clean

still none cares

it occupies the dry shore

everyone stamps it in disgust

even the waves push it aside


Oh ye men its the very soul of mine

you destroyed mentally raping her feeble spirit

she lies there lifeless

but yet alive for her days are more

she wishes someone would touch her wounds

Apply love potion on her hidden pain

where in her dreadful moments would dissolve

Born Again

The morning dew kissed the rose bud
Telling her the secrets of love
The dew moved on
Between her tender petals
He slowly caressed her heart
Her fears vanished, he gave her hope
She started breathing again
Born again, she spread her wings
Far and wide, her eyes opened slowly
She saw the mighty sun, glaring above
Her glittering attire, that incredible smile
Baffled the crowd, none forgot to admire her
The dew that gave her a new life
Was no more in the vicinity
And she never saw her Love
Her second Mother.
But the essence of dew
painted deep in her heart
makes her life fragrant.


Removing the wrap, carefully
one by one, unraveling wonders.
Curiosity leads us, to proceed further
unwrapping more treasurable gifts.
The ribbons cut reveals
the next gift behind the wrap,
yet another beautifully colored wrap
when will this onion peels end?
Alas, before questioning the Sender
end of life engulfs us.
As the curtain rises again
we disappear
without discovering what gift it was