Wednesday, November 1, 2017




My pen is bleeding on the paper
Crying in deep pain
Shedding tears here and there
I tried in vain to escape from all my strains
Ink screams
With so much pressure
How to control all this nonsense !!
Tried to hide all despair
But No, I can't !!!
I am a true soul
That writes from its heart
No mind game is there
To Collect your praise and applause!!
Varsha Saran@copyright


Every body is wearing a mask
To hide their originality of soul
Behind an emotional face
Every face is a mask
To act properly, on the stage of life
Whoever is perfect
To put on smartly n beautifully this mask
And act gracefully
With a lot of hypocrisy
Becomes a winner ...
And comes in the limelight
Popularity kisses his forehead
And embrace him with love
Blind society salute his power
And he smiles proudly on him
When he throw his mask
A devil howls
With all his might
That we can find in every big positions in this world
Like politics and bureaucrats !!
Varsha Saran@copyright


She was pretty enough
To enlighten this world

Gloomy minds turned happy
When she smiles with her enigmatic touch

She was not Monalisa of Leonardo
But a beautiful flower of her family garden

Throny experiences of life
Made her more wise
But how long she would tolerate
The storms of life

Her fresh red colour changed into crimson
More bloody
More angry
Annoyed with this system

Where everyone desire for silken part
And not ready to compromise with the harsh side

They forget that Rose has to survive with throny destiny
That makes her more pretty
And she is a special piece
Created by divine!!
Varsha Saran@copyright


Pain is crying on the vantilator of bad luck
Pleasure is whisling carelessly
n smiling with proud,
Looking happy ,on the beautiful bed of roses,
Smelling the sweet aroma
How fortunate it is!!
How well timed !!
And circumstances is playing game
With innocence or prejudiced
And we people are nothing !!
Only puppet whose string is in the hands of divine!!
Varsha Saran@copyright


In a deep , dense woods of my heart
Am I alone!!
A Solitary soul
No, I am not...
Different phobia tease me a lot
In the form of insectivorous trees
That hold me tight n tight
Till I completely surrender
But it's all my  false imagination
I am strong enough
With my creativity
My scribes
Never ever make me feel alone,
When I write
I don't scare with all these creeping replies
That are crawling like the monsters of society
They feel my work is useless,
Whose hisssing sound is very weak
In front of my mighty pen!!


VARSHA SARAN:  42 yrs old bilingual poetess. She did her Post graduation from Ch. Charan Sing University Meerut. Her poems have been published in different international Anthologies. She got many awards in poetry writing.

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