Monday, 5 November 2018

Avni- the ever-glowing flame

The breath of her longing and fear lingers
The green walls of her home weep - after
Her residence turned a mouth of a dragon.
She wasn't allowed to live or die naturally
Her enemies want her as a symbol of pride
Her glowing skin as a showpiece of victory
But... she needs just her home, her habitat, and kids.

She was the mother of two young bright children,
Full of love and play, the home roared in happiness
A day came when she metamorphosed into a destroying fire
The anticipated threat, her motherly instinct blossomed
Eyes transformed every trespasser into a monster
She killed every intruder eavesdropping her parenting silence
Labeled the mad mother, the man-eater, she was murdered
The murderer becomes a hero and she a villain, not victim

In a world of wolves who know not a mother's love
In a world of wolves who knows not to pacify a defending mother
In a world of wolves where the kids are not protected
How could she survive even if she was a tiger?

She just merged to her funeral pyre to keep glowing
Hoping to find a better home for her descendants.

#shalinisamuel

Sunday, 12 November 2017

Mind


Oh, being of violence and romance
In you, I see a mini Syria
You are a dictator
Extreme and adamant
Yet you fight for freedom
Freedom from yourself.

You hurt violently
You break your head
Pluck your own eyes
Perplexed you protect yourself
From whom do you run
When, you are the culprit?

Pity in your helpless eyes - rare
Your aggression kills my sympathy
Your agony milks tears from dead eyes
I pour gallons of milk on you
Red it becomes on your battlefield
You pull me into your confused island

Oh unwavering undecisive mind
I am scared of your impetus
I wish you dive into silent oceans
And not be scared of sound silence
Don't scare me with your foolishness
Oh dear, enchant me with your penance




- Shalini Samuel

Saturday, 11 November 2017

Why

Past has written everything
Future is an unsolved puzzle
Present is revealing its colours
Now, what shall I write?
And what shall you read?

Scribble my pen, the ignorant world
for the men who missed to hear
Scribble my pen, the unheard mysteries
for the men who are curious
Scribble my pen, whatever you feel

Yet, what do I write?
What do you read?
Does it make any difference?
Can it diffuse a bomb
Or can it stop an accident

Nothing can the poem do
Then why should I write?
And why should you read?
To just fool the mirage, time
Or is it a showoff?




--Shalini Samuel

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

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 is resting somewhere in the wild.

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

- Shalini Samuel

PS: The touch of some men/women/beast destroys beautiful things of nature. It takes eras to be rebuild. Let not we be cruel enough to destroy beautiful nature. Join hands to protect beauty and nature.

Avni- the ever-glowing flame

The breath of her longing and fear lingers The green walls of her home weep - after Her residence turned a mouth of a dragon. She wasn'...