Poems by Lily Swarn
Another year sails by !
It’s only a number
They tell you patronisingly
Age is just a digit they say
I think they know not
what they say
Lord forgive them
You remember your age
When you think of the
That your mama painstakingly
Braided for you every morning
With red ribbons that you abhorred
And the neon green Tiffin box
That you slinked into school with
You remember your age when
You munch on the aaloo paraantha
That you made yourself but it did not
Quite taste like your mama’s
Wandering in your stream of consciousness
Whirlpools and eddies of snaking
Desires fox trotting in your brain
Like pop corn in the sauce pan
You remember your age traipsing
Down the street in your hometown
Where you sat beneath the Bougainville with your doctor set
And played house -house all afternoon
Putting your dolly to sleep in the miniature dolls house
Your house is real now and your
Hair flows wild and free
Your kids eat your paranthas
With as much relish as you ate
The ones your mama made
You squash your thoughts into a puddle now and curb your stream
You eat in designer crockery now
Yes you don’t forget your age
you don’t guffaw as you did before
With your head towards the sky
You squirm when someone thinks the world of you
For you are now a doubting Jane
You wonder if they are pulling your leg and have a hidden agenda
You take forever to choose a dress
That makes you look a wee bit thinner
Yes you surely remember your age
When your gluttony brings up
From those who care and those you love
It’s just about time you aged !
Copyright Lily Swarn 23.11.2016
The Jasmine Story
When you promised me a garden scented with the befuddling perfume of jasmines
Did you know that the world is ruled by humans who are heartless and fanatic ?
Did you forget that the strings of our puppetry is not with carefree jolly gypsies
But with manic terrorists steeped in information technology ?
Did you not read the blazing tormenting headlines of daily newspapers
Shrieking and wailing of homeless orphans ?
How could you dream of an idyllic society where you and I would meet amidst the Nargis blooms
Peeping joyfully through the green of the meadows ?
Had you given no thought to the misery of bombarded hutments and hovels
Lying in pathetic heaps of rubble ?
Where were you when the sirens blared cacophony in the pitch black nights of love ?
Why didn’t you make way for the funeral vans followed by piteously sobbing women ?
Were you still busy writing love ditties in the ink of your Crimson hued blood ?
Were you still imagining the sheen of my henna coloured hair ?
Were you thinking of my bow shaped lips in your war shelter
Momentarily safe in the underground trenches carved out of your thoughts ?
Copyright Lily Swarn 18.11.2016