The Roadway

would it..
will it not?
the roadway to the final destination
would carry the fragrance of
soil... dried leaves and the sweat along?
will it spread the nostalgia of sojourn
while the swaying branch bends to
 brush the tresses
Will the dust speak of the crimson sunset
floating in the air
or of the wading birds bidding adieu
to lakes and pollen of distant flowers
will the anchor of sail...sing tale
of rough weathers
or the vessel explain the trembles of
turbulent waters
would the altar of purpose...
reverberate nuances of the voyage
Breathe then... inhale the redolence ; a feather this
will vanish forever...lost,
 in the treading soil
of the travel...

@ Soumya


herein i fortify the roots of nature
ones which need love and affection
in storms whence they stand stronger
deeper to travel more inside the gravel....

roots of life , 
roots of human
 cause of
ignorance or wisdom

anchor thyself,
 in soil 
introspect inside 
what lies on the layer is superficial
above the ground...the world is so different
the real roots exist and appear....


Finish the task

Tis tough to ev'r know the depth
the ocean where compassion dwells
like sapphire it sparkles in drops
from corner or blade of grass
The roar inside is silenced
by pricks of thorns
or hidden rose branch
...Who knoweth what
lies in conscience...
walkin the way is our aim;

amidst surreal
jingles , shimmers
rule the game
solace unheeded 
purpose stalk
denotation distinct
free the soul and
finish the task...



whilst the storm had intentions 
that were futile
the petals reopened 
blossomed in white
the winds had blown shelters of words
trying to ransack whole world...
in morning light 
in night mystic
the lone flower bloomed 
on the dignified tree
crumpled at times, crushed 
inside it pined...
resilience added to the power of victory
truth and immaculateness paved the way to  serenity



Nay ! the world doesn't stop 
ov'r any shocking blast that silences
the chirping of children or rustle of life
neither if an old soul makes a noose 
to end the strife, or forcibly directed on
mindgames or lies
nor if millions have lost the zeal
to keep their jobs live
or striving for a square meal 
once a day in time

Nay! nothing shall move hearts
nothing shall deride
The heart nowadays forgets it's soul
whether we are robots or truly alive
In gravels of dust, in handful of soil
we shall unite
through ashes , or remnants of graves
yet forget to keep the zeal of  our purpose qui vive.

Tis a long journey 
of different milestones
few get tired in miles
a noted count moves ahead
for furlongs until
the peak is scaled with newer heights...



Where from you arrive
O! wind
why is the hurry to
wash and rinse
every stride...

didn't you know
the crown of thoughts
perseverance , the diamond of efforts
adorning life

yet you rush,
run scot free
destroying peaks of glory
which tiny fingers built in sand
whilst you crush dreams
destroying minds...

Halt! breathe
for a moment
O ! wind
you needn't be a turbulence
a tornado
to be cherished for lifetime
Be the westerly wind
which rejuvenates
reinstates life...

- Soumya

The Inner Voice

Like the faraway claret coloured sunset 
 transmuting into a sapphire's blueness 
  heart flutters in arbitrariness 
  rushing ache in veins watching flapping silhouettes !

did we ever notice
 colours of sky
emerald leaves
twinkled eyes
suppressed smiles
blushing lips
dance of butterflies
or carpet of pearls
 on grasser green ?
Else fathomed ever
 the soothing touch  
 immersed in real essence
A potion of pain 
 in magical fingers
in an embrace
in a cuddle;
in a pat,
as cure of  miseries
respite to griefs
absolution to holdbacks
freedom to recover,
liberty to express,
authority to grow;
 yet we forget
diminish our charm
losing self
in captivity of limitations
in confinement of materialistic affinities
in detention of superficiality
 in shallowness
of living!
When shall then clock strike
to wake us from
the delusion 
in cognizance of truth
hearing inner voice?


Another day, another hour

Monologues were here
Like the monotonous regime
Of another day another hour
And the hands of clock halted for a moment
Or the sun forgot to scorch lil brighter
The breeze had arrived
With coolness and spright
Wind of change, wind of life
Marching valiantly on borders of time
It hailed silence in between
Yet proclaims
the advent of transformation
Just in time
Another day, another hour



….. 🔐locked inside
between pages of an old book
Ah! Haven’t their wings being clipped
chained to prevent flying
How well they flowed
through mountains
akin cool waters of Alakhnanda
or blooming as bunch of jasmine
colours of rhododendrons sparkling
dissipated fragrance of romance
wherever those lived and traveled
sometimes in gossips at a nearby tea stall of city
or in blown dust by carts of dreams
Dancing in forgotten ambitions of young minds
Where are these! caged in
breathing , suffocating in the walls
Not suffice to create a mural nor any epic of times
resound in speeches on television instead
in flared voices of shows
or whispers of sex and violence
Forgotten their charm
Where are these!!
Bring them out
Let them live, love flourish
adorn our lives as ever
Words…my dear
Words of prose
Words of verses
Words of emotions
Words of nature
Withering in inhibitions….
Waiting for the final flight…of freedom. ©Soumya