[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Two Poems by Sheetal Yadav” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]fresh words tasting the lyric…[/ultimate_heading]

LOVE

 

Somewhere a rose was plucked

by someone for a loved one.

Somewhere a song was sung

by someone for a loved one.

Then came a storm-
a storm of time and hatred,

swiped away all the gardens, all the petals

smashed all the violins,

and now, there may not be that rose or that song

or that ‘someone’ or that ‘loved one’,

but the love,

that love still thrives

among the remaining thorns,

and the remaining half-broken songs.

That love still thrives

because love is eternal, unbreakable,

unshaken, impalpable,

because love is love my dear

and love always survives,

no matter,

if thousands of tempests pass by,

if hatred shatters down the sky,

if the sharp blades of time make the stars cry,

it’s love my darling

it’ll always survive.

 

 

A SUICIDE NOTE

I was born,

I was black,

but then I didn’t know the things

so that much-it didn’t ache.

I grew up,

went to school,

found that I was some different,

different from the common pool.

People laugh,

they say things,

ask me what I really am.

Everyday,

every breath,

really hurt – so much

that I can’t say.

Hard to die,

hard to live

sorry Ma! but I can’t lie.

I am what they think I am

but still a human

I am.

Why the hell, they don’t get it?

It’s all really

pell-mell.

Dreams shattered, life baffled

I am inside

all tethered.

No one understands and

No how will any?

No one on my side

but against are many.

No friends, no family

No one to love me.

Feels like I am falling

but no one to pull me.

I have nothing but nothing, no one and none,

so this faggot is leaving hope you guys had fun

mocking me,

laughing at me,

I just wish that no one here is born like me,

’cause this place is worse,

even more than the worst,

you will have to die

if you are the first.

About the Poet: 

The poet’s official name is Sheetal Yadav but her pen name is Era. She is a seventeen-year-old student and she belongs to KaKanpur, Uttar Pradesh. She has an aggrandized love and interest for creative writing and she looks forward to establish herself as a poet and an author. Her poems chiefly portray human emotions, but she tries to work on different genres as well. She writes on hopes and high esteems as well as despair and ugliness and the seamy side of life.