Poetry: Sravani Singampalli

Sravani Singampalli
Sravani singampalli is a 22 year old writer and poet from Andhra Pradesh, India. She is presently pursuing doctor of pharmacy at JNTU KAKINADA university in Andhra Pradesh.


I wish I were the rain
The rain of felicity
The rain of poetry
Or perhaps the rain of equanimity
In their gloomy lives.

I wish I were blind
As blind as pure love
Smelling the fragrance of optimism
And feeling the tranquillity in cool breeze.

I wish I were the life
The life in the pure water
The life in the eternal sunshine
Or perhaps the life
In those innocent smiles.

I wish I were the song
The song of a nightingale
The song of a passionate lover
Or perhaps the song of
A dewy-eyed orphan child.

I wish I were his pain
The pain which is bittersweet
The pain buried deep inside
The pain conceived into his poem
The pain which has stolen all my desires!

I have seen those
Breathtaking cherry blossoms,
Wonderful cascades, serene woods
And lonely valleys.
I really felt happy seeing
All the beauties of nature.
I never thought of anything
More beautiful than this
But when I heard the laughter
Of those poor innocent children
When I saw them jumping in happiness
After receiving goodies
I changed my mind.
That old man in their street
Is perhaps more fortunate than me.
He can behold this every day
Selling his delicious roasted peanuts
And giving some to these
Poor little kids
At the end of the day.

*Elysium - a place or state of perfect happiness.


As I smell the sweet earthy scent
Of the immature rain
I remember those pleasant moments
I start aging with memories
I see the soft fall of a magnolia flower
And warmth emanates from my saffron love
I get lost in my little world
It stops raining
The first rays of sun
Hit the earth
And somewhere at a corner
A small flower emerges
Out of the rotten leaves
Just like a spark of light
In the decaying darkness
I have become petrichor
I am the fresh perfume
Issued from cardamom thoughts!


I once saw an old man
With dimples on his wrinkled cheeks
He lived alone in a small cottage
He worked very hard and
Always prepared his own food.
I wondered what made him
Live in solitude?
He used to collect
Dried magnolia leaves and twigs
One day while passing by his cottage
I saw him painting the autumn trees
I stopped and asked him
What is so special about the melancholy autumn?
He simply replied, “A new beginning”.
I was inspired and he gave me
A humble smile.

Have you ever thought
Why sugar is sweet?
Why salt is not bitter?
If not then ask yourself now
I am sure you’ll rediscover yourself
And perhaps recreate your own fate!

Do you feel that failure is your enemy?
Make it your best friend
After all, it taught you so many things.
If not then stop dreaming about
Being another Thomas Alva Edison!

That man wears a mask every day
Don’t think he’s a clown
He does so for his little children
Now, can we say that
A mask is sometimes better than reality?

Yesterday I saw a poor kid
Running as fast as he can
Despite multiple bruises all over his body
Just to win the race
Perhaps he unknowingly followed
The words of Samuel Beckett
I can’t go on, I’ll go on!

You cannot teach a river
How to flow
You cannot tell a flower
When to bloom
You cannot advice a fish
To fly high in the sky
We all are unique and will shine
When the right time comes.

Jouska and liberosis

I should have said
Oh! You look so great!
She would have smiled
Instead of throwing tantrums at me.
I should have asked for forgiveness
These people believe
In the wise old saying
‘Forgive and forget’!
Why did I behave so wild?
It was all absolutely my mistake
I was being candid
Was I really?
Who taught me
To call a spade a spade?
Is it necessary?
I know she wasn’t good
But she wasn’t bad too!
What if I gift her a dress?
No! I can’t do this
She will definitely throw it away
Ok! What has happened has happened
Perhaps I can’t change the past
But I can plan to change the ending.

*Jouska- speaking to oneself in one’s imagination.
*Liberosis-a desire to care less about things.

My identity

A man with immense knowledge
Is a tree laden with fruits
I am happy that I can taste them
I am still a budding tree!

Great people are the perennial rivers
I don’t know if I can be like them
Now I am a leafless maple tree
Waiting with patience and faith
For the season of ‘happiness and triumph’!

That crooked man is a pitcher plant
Its bright colour and hair-like structures
Are all his tricks to trap
The liquid inside is his strength
But I am not that poor innocent insect!
People who hurt me are cacti
I am a touch-me-not plant
I am the sunshine in my parents’ heart
Their faith in me is a banyan tree
And my heart is a magnolia flower!     

All the beautiful looking girls
Are the tall pine trees
I may not look like them
I am an ugly contorted tree
Still I am happy and lucky
Because nobody can chop me down!

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