The covetous gambler!

What do selfish wants and gruesome lies do to a human? The stature of a human being falls below any level and exhibits the egocentric character. For once, the person descends into the pit of suffocation, where conscience plays its role,hereafter.

The Monologue of a covetous gambler !

 

gossip I in the corridor of lies,

dwells where the queen

burning in envy bright…

the timid , quiet truth sits in a corner

watching the powerful blow

might of the false emperor…

sometimes withered , sometimes cornered

the creeper of truth can’t grasp

firmly the wall of belief,

falls it, hopelessly,

while dig I the roots

underneath the soil mature…

The world reckons ,my stature

I , covetous gambler.

 

Oh! what’s this!

why am I suffocating , what smoke is this

filling the corridor…?

Alas! Is it my own selfish endeavor

in burning the roots of verity

I char my own … fingers.

The trivial mind

Wonder I of

the shallow words and churning of thoughts

satisfied with simple pleasures

ne’er touched by façade of life’s learning

miles away from the biggest ocean…

ne’er drenched or even wet

the wisdom drops, slip over the surface

oiled with comforts and petty measures…

one dimensional image of the trivial mind

remains submerged in trifling delectations…

PURPLE

 

Isn’t the orchid pale today or

the azure lost its hues in frosty weather

the pink lilies too

seem dull

when the dusk appears little purple than

the scarlet pier…usual

forgotten in dead remains

as ashes they scatter in dust

reminiscences of the beloveds

who died one fateful night

last summer…

again prevails the same climate

transforms the camouflage of

flowers and world

Tis the sky who alone

remembers the fury

repercussions of war

in cold blooded atmosphere…

sulks the orchid tonight…

purple appears the crimson lover

stained in blood drops

dried and desiccated as humans of universe.

 

DEATH

DEATH

I simmer in the boiling emotions of past
Oh! death ! it isn’t that easy
to sleep in thy arms,
before the world awakens
in duty is immersed my heart.
Would thou ever survive a second
in such life , craving for a glance…

Oh ! death! thou ignorant
of the mortal ways of earth…
how doth you know
the sordidness,
eyes when get wet with reminiscences …

Wrap me with the white linen
of thy warmth,
wait ,
let me furnish the assigned task
there are few minutes left
to be in thy arms!

My son!
Come here, adorn the casket
spread the lilies
Beware!
I fear roses
they prickle my skin…
quietly step near
I sleep in peace…
do not disturb…

photocredit:www.fantom-xp.com

Remnant

Who knows thou! sings the baul

his fingers struck the single chord

the solo of duality , he hums

in remnants of the grief stricken

some old souls, few shattered and broken

Oh ! does it require to be a tatterdemalion

or a ramshackle old pier

to whisper the tunes of eternal weather

while plays the

impulse of seeking the invisible

or knowing Him through

the world visible…

The rampant hunger and

lingering thirst arrives wherefrom

in the arteries of singing legends

is it necessary to be in a deplorable condition

to call and cry for

the cosmic creator!

why forgets the mind of many

bask who in sun of pleasure…

its going to be dark soon

whence shall it find the light for right direction?

 photocredit: aduphoto.com

The lonely nightingale !

whence shall I be freed from the bondage of destiny
in blind clutches,
tied securely with strings
Breathlessly the body sinks,
ageing with the duties endlessly…
the cluster of orchids drooped
whilst I was busy in the chores of world
not once I got to touch the
enchanteur
failed the effort…
nothing earned…
why does the lonely nightingale then sing
song of solitude in melancholy
there’s a melody in her voice
inside the four walls
she sings and dies.

 

photocredit: king.portlandschools.org

Rooted!

alive remain we, until grounded,

in depths of soil, as we are rooted.

a moment takes to uproot the base,

dry the leaves of existence, life devastates.

 

 

THE HIGHLAND LASS !

photocredit:www.fineart-china.com

 

O! Nifty , delicate highland lass,
beneath your trampled feet lies my heart
carefully walk and ride the horse
somewhere on the moorland , my soul drags along…whip when you , the lazy horse
watch the lengthy rope
moving in tangent harms
and sheds the cluster of flowers pink
those which hung from branches long.O! princess of mesa,
thou attire the floral skirt…
my love has decked the fabric
with embroider
and life hums the tune
of thy love song.

2nd November 2014

2nd November 2014 was a day of disaster for those innocents who went to witness an event .

Read my guest post about it on Vishal’s blog : http://vishalbheeroo.wordpress.com/2014/11/06/guest-post-soumya-vilekar-read-on/

This is an imaginary excerpt of a real incident.

The setting sun’s beloved !

The setting sun today spoke

of tragedies and sorrows

amidst the life of a day

the goblet of fire too

weeps at conjecture

left when its beloved in arms of the night miserable

who engulfs,

the sweetness of melody,

the music of nature of its arrival…

haunting the innocent birds to their nests

shivers the sky

man trembles…

O! human, you knoweth not,

I worry for my beloved,

the immaculate earth, untill the next day ,

when I return

of the nights terror…

she sleeps alone, cuddling ,

while the sky cries,

the earth gets misty…

Alas! I must leave

you

to the fate of your own destiny.