International Beat Poet Laureate India 2023 -2024 and Caesar Vallejo award for literary excellence by UHE, Lily Swarn, internationally acclaimed, multilingual poet, author, columnist, gold medalist, university colour holder, radio show host, Peace and Humanity Ambassador, writes different genres. History On My Plate won her the Best Author Award. Rippling Moonbeams got Chandigarh Sahitya Akademi award for Best Book of the year. The Divine Dialect of Flowers is nominated for the Panorama Golden Book Award.
She has over 70 international and national awards .
Lily’s poetry has been translated into 21 languages. She has authored eight books, including A Trellis of Ecstasy, Lilies of the Valley, The Gypsy Trail, Yeh Na Thi Hamaari Qismat, A Passionate Affair with Trees, The Divine Dialect of Flowers .
Lily’s work has been published in numerous anthologies as well as European and international magazines. She is often invited to participate in global conferences.
Sometimes
Sometimes the light has to struggle to emerge from the tangled web of darkness
Sometimes your aura pushes its way through the claustrophobic queue of tear streaked orphans
Sometimes I light the rusted lantern of kerosene smelling life
Sometimes the sunny dandelion has to force its way out from the crack in the sidewalk
Sometimes the ice cold air from the upper Himalayas decides to turn benevolent
Sometimes I know you are around by the way the moon beckons me with hushed gestures
Primal Me
Uncoil the primal me
and emerge
The superior me
Unshackled by primal fears
Unadorned by man made hopes
Mechanical love swung out of
Concrete buildings on tarred roads
Primal pain moaned and yelped
Screamed and yelled
Unabashedly
Primal me
unashamed of my body
Its voluptuous contours
Its raging needs
Its anguished hormones
Striding like Venus incarnate
Encompassing love and desire
In one fertile leap of prosperity
Primal anger unfurling high on
The mountains of want
Released from hollow corners
In simmering waters
Unleashing the river of life
To meander at will to its Creator
Primal sounds beckoning me
Loud like the beats of the Nagaada
That called the troops to war
Reddening the blood in my stream
Crimson mouthfuls sucking out
The violet venom corroding my insides
Primal like the roots of the Banyan tree
Fondling the earth reverentially
Emerging stronger with its humility
Lustily uttering the name that hovers
Shakily just beneath my plump lips
Shorn of artifice
Bereft of guile
Primal me in my holy sunshine
Naked emotion hanging to dry
On virgin beaches in ethereal skies
Shaken , buzzed , hissed , hummed
The primal sound whistled in the
Universe
Beyond gender it's cosmic energy
Going around the earth and reaching me
Loud and clear for whatever is released will come back to me
Primal throbbing pulsating me
Primal me
Spinning On Hate
The world seems to be falling apart
Spinning deliriously on hate and bigotry
The centre explodes with the piercing pain of shrapnel
Frightened earth darkened with congealed blood
Of a million corpses flung around by mindless war
Grief oozes out of shameful clouds watching from above
Vacant eyed orphans search for dead parents
In alien refugee camps with strange faces
Smoke spirals choke kindness and love
Sinister viruses sap out the life force
As a beseeching universe gets trampled
With more intruding satellites
Snooping into homes and hearts
