Author Archives: Sangeeta Suneja

About Sangeeta Suneja

Sangeeta Suneja is a science graduate from Maharani College Jaipur, holds a Post Graduate Diploma in Sales and Marketing from YMCA Institute of Management studies, MBA She has been working with Air India for the past 26 years at New Delhi. She has written more than Seven hundred poetry pieces on her poetry blog. Her work has been published in many international anthologies, She is a motivational author at Featured poet at many online magazines like Angies Sangeeta Suneja also loves to paint, has her own illustrations and abstract paintings to complement her Poetry. She writes in Hindi, (Punjabi and Urdu in English script), and has also written a few short stories and flash fiction in English.

The Sun may need not come

The Sun is busy warming up, the other side of globe,
my land wears almost a sheer, a translucent moist robe,
The Sun seeks from us, to warm up from with in, like him and shine,
but we choose to catch up the lost heat from our rogue rage and intoxicating wine,
Learning to light from the Sun, we postponed it for another time,
killing time and our fellows has become easier
than polishing our souls in humility and shine,
The Sun’s rays have not reached our dark minds,
We are busy playing wars, and the rockets do shine,
we pray for their dead souls, far away,
sending prayers, but sharp shooters,
and missiles loot our peace of mind,
we have enough of fire to set ablaze the moist robe,
let it all dry it up,
many moist eyes will again make it humid,
a bit saline to make it up
so let the Sun go away warming up the other side of globe,
we have enough fire to light the sky with splinters,
we celebrate warm peace, in a cold tearful winter!!

Sangeeta Suneja

The leftovers

I was in,
for years and years,
locked in a small soft pink body,
with time
as I was on a minimization,
another packet of air was on inflation,
they called it ‘the mind’,
with the body it chimed
and both happened
to enjoy their prime,
I use poke my nose every now and then
till I was held with both my arms,
was shut in a den,
with some time spent in sleep
and few frail shouts from deep,
I tried to yell and tried to shake their slumbers off,
but both slept hugging each other in accord
when all seasons seasoned, I was showed a way,
was dimmed in a slight,
there were only few sessions of light,
those had pumped me with a heavenly light,
The rucksack that carried me was now worn out,
The air bag leaked and deflated defeated,
had clung close to me, my skin, to hide,
Angels came in to take me home,
there they called it a heavenly abode,
my freedom into the surreal sky,
and the body that l had lived in
declared it a dark night,
On my flight, the mind
trailed behind,
after few light years, it lost its find,
on the way up to father’s home,
my Zion,
Light of mine was all,
not in kind,
before I said a final goodbye,
The cage as I had signed out,
it was neatly put on a pyre,
my left over symbols of exile
were in a silent fading,
meekly crushed skull and all
submitted to fire!!

19th Sep12 Sangeeta Suneja

My country road dream

A white sheet,
of shelled out,
grains of rice,
a bed of marbled ice
an inviting fragrance of Basmati,*
as we leave the highway
at the hem of the country side,
An essence of pure life
greener leaves, transparent air,
a vigor to vindicate,
a visible virility on the way
birds have a say,
a background music never stops to gurgle
a chorus, a play
of a flowing canal, or the wind gushing through the ready crops, a colored spray,
bushes and the trees,
for a while the body
and the spirits set free,
the soil seems moist and rich,
as my bare feet touch and feel,
my dream to live there someday,
in the rustic simplicity,
to touch their simple lives,
to learn it,
and unlearn the lessons of the cities,
to give away,
all that I have learnt,
if there are any takers
else it shall all be burnt
with me in my pigeon hole dream,
on my every trip
I shall loosen my grip,
on the grains of rice,
paying my price
back to my walls, to an old unpaid,
*Basmati is a quality of rice that grows in north India, it has a distinct aroma.