Category Archives: Poetry

The place for all your poetry to be shared with the world

The friend long lost

How does it feel when a friend vanishes.

Someone as close as your shadow,

Someone whom you trust

And look up to as next to God.

A friendship that blossomed out of the blue.

Two females struggling their way through life’s odds,

Waiting eagerly ,yet not waiting for Life’s nods.

Hard working moms,working to create wonders,

Leading the brigade in respective fields.

And one day the sparkling star stops to respond.

No parting words,no goodbye.

And the one left wonders – Why!

For Layla Al Ghandour : A Gaza Child

The eight month old , green eyed child
snuggled next to her granny’s chest
sending her into a joyous tizzy.
Busy, busy, death was busy
Changing shapes, wearing masks
dutifully doing his duty, his deadly tasks,
sometimes hidden under a draft of acrid gas,
at times under gunfire.
Not wanting to be a loser, he crept closer.
Closer to the child,
wild eyes glinting with a predator’s spark,

There she lay, the green eyed child; asphyxiated.
Limbs cold and blue, just eight month old
with a headful of gold
whose gurgles of happy mirth
now no longer could be heard
on the hate ravaged earth.

From a warm embrace to a cold one,
the child had shifted; now it nestled
close to death’s shoulders
as her distraught family
wrestled with anguish, cuddling
the muddled memories of an eight month old,
who had glowed with a headful of gold.

The birds flocked to their nests
as arguments and counterarguments,
more lethal than poison gas, swirled in the air.

“Layla, Layla”, the mother cries,
smothering her sobs, choking on a pall of black smoke.
Private pain now stands juxtaposed against a political cause.
A bloated vulture sitting atop a tree gloats
as a murky darkness engulfs them all.
Death crawls, bends, and lowers himself,
his cold arms now embracing the leftovers.
Pleased as Punch, his jaws crunch on, munch on
lunch on.


Desires are pain
but so what?
A little pain is ok
A lot of pain is ok too
Who cares?
I don’t

Singing lullabies
to put myself to sleep
has been my occupation
The listening me sleeps
The singing me is a vampire
The day starts with a night
and ends with a day

Mirrors don’t get it
You don’t too
But who cares?
I don’t
I wish to look good
and I do

Radha and Krishna

When I think of the raas-leela
Of Krishna and Radha,
I am carried to the landscapes of Kashmir.
I feel their romantic sensibilities,
Close to each other like the clusters of bamboo
And strong like the gnarled oak.

Both Radha and Krishna had no ego
That rise from wealth, physical prowess,
Birth, scholarship, beauty,
Power and penance.
They came to give love, create love
In rapturous delight like an alluring orchestra.

Radha and Krishna did not have
Existential ennui, nor did they
Believe in the stroke of destiny.
They simply expanded the horizon
Of their knowledge with a beautiful mind
And the depths and beauties of love
with a pretty heart, never assailed by worries.

A thousand splendid suns
Knew the luminosity of their eyes,
The vitality and veracity of their hearts
And how they slowly pulled people towards them
To different spheres of existence..

pramila khadun

Life In A Metro

Life in a Metro
Contrast on bright canvas
Rags to riches
Riches to hell
Ever in a race
Killing pace
Heaving sighs
Every soul
Defying destiny
Instinct to survive
Drives the masses
Highrises shadow
Shanties below
Pungent sweaty
Perfumes on torn jeans
Run for Life
Painful cries
Blasts in trains
Buses and aisles
Deafening sounds
Blaring music
from the lounge
Shattering glasses
Skies blood red
Stray dogs huddled
Splashing and purging
Economy wild
Run for life
Humanity gasping
Counting last breathes…
Souls laying wreathes….
Life in a metro
© Dr. Swati A Gadgil , All Rights Reserved .

The Transition

Long before my feet touched the soil I am in now,
I knew exactly what kind of footprints I will be leaving on Earth
I am but an old soul traveling back in time and ready to face the future,
A pilgrim on a wondrous voyage beyond time and space.

Mystics are my old friends from another life time
As my soul is in an enigmatic transition to some where not from this world,
Centuries passed and time eloped with each passing day
But still this countenance is the same as it was in yesteryears.

In my world, time transcends in every nano second,
I can see through my crystal ball, the Genesis of it all
How young the Earth was and how innocent the inhabitants are
Vast lands of lush greeneries used to abound,
The promise of a beautiful tomorrow is always at hand.

Alas! The Phantom appeared and cast a dark spell
The once Divine Garden of Eden was enveloped by Fear and Sin
Mother Earth wept and with each tear drop, flood swept the lands.

The Paradise of Man withered as the ground dried up
No sign of life, I opted to let my soul collide with the stars,
And find another Home, until I found Him, the Light
Taught me how to discover my Higher Self and be a guide
To others who are in the same darkness as I was where before.

The Transition-
I am no longer just an ordinary inhabitant of the Earth but a Defender of it,
As my spirit soars Higher in the Heavens, with Angels playing sweet music on their Golden Harps
With melodious voices permeating and lingering long after the heavenly rhythm halts,
I am no longer who I used to be for I became a soul with an Eternal Purpose pursuing my Ultimate Destiny.


Virtues seek reciprocal-

gestures vie for approval.

But desires equivocal,

and the fate appears cruel.

You rejoice in the belief

that deeds would be gratified.

Alas! this fancy is brief,

and such futile seems the pride.

The soul has treacherous roots.

And hope is a bitter fruit.

Love Available

A small plant in my
balcony smiled
when the sun kissed him
there love was complete.
Then the air,
played with it for a while
they sang and danced,
as I glanced and realized
there love was complete.
The moonlight touched
its crystal soothing light
they made love all night
the light turned it divine
then the morning dew
kissed it, made him shy,
He become one with existence.
And I walked across the globe.
with heart filled with hope of love
but I remained incomplete
The plant received the gifts of god
he was open and unprejudiced.
Like a witness
and the divine showered
love all over him
unlike us who want to
design what is undesigned
who want to contain
love is like hope
for the terminal man.

David in Stone

You took boon
Out of my chiseling hands
David in stone, – Naked

What else you pillage
in your beauteous silence
My heart pumps
dry blood,
into my invisible veins

Broken Memories

The Chanteuse


crooning existential

torch-lit ennui,

marinaded in

absinthed vocals,

in the salons

and bars of

La Rive Gauche,

domicile to flaneurs

and bohemian confreres;

she is wounding

their hearts with

visceral monotonous langour;

amid smouldering pyres

of  Gauloises,

stygian-leafed frissons

of earthy odeur,

redolent of arcane

manual labour,