I know not the change
 nights long or the sweating day's pain
Is it the moon’s peeping game
or the wildflower’s fragrance putting
Samsara to shame?
the flow of time and course
alters abruptly and ceaselessly moves
sometime letting the scarlet dusk
embrace me or often
 leaving the stars in jealousy
while the dewy drops sparkle
I await
momentous fancies dreaming of being real
on the sandy shores 
when our intertwining fingers and seashells will play.

©Soumya
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“Faith”


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wandered I on various lands
ov’r seas, ov’r bridges
strolled on sands and
walked through indefinite contours
every land donned
a new robe,
a new colour
of hope ,
of belief
of religion
and
each thought,
each urge,
each craving
converges to the same destination
THE CREATOR
Paths many , journeys different
all under the same azure
witness the sun and moon while playing hide and seek
from their co ordinates
innumerable ways to elevate and transcend
ceaseless is the travel
there’s lot to discover
get set go and
breathe
in different atmospheres
before it ends…

©SoumyaVilekar

A Life gets over


gulmohar
gulmohar

A part of me is sliced tonight

chaffed off my tender heart

The breath is half,

Life becomes half

snatches as the clutches of destiny

from my existence

a part

Somewhere down the years , the bruised portion will grow

balm the wounds with verses of blood

curing pain of the open shredded injuries

A part of me then shall merge,

rejuvenate

coalesce and unite to assimilate finally

like a body converts to ashes

and integrates in the soil

A Life gets over

A SACRED DISPOSITION


Delicate flower

 

looked up, an old fragile flower
gazing at the wide azure
savvying for a drizzle
which perhaps
could
rejuvenate its trembling veins…
in an instant
vanishes, the evanescence
in the zephyr
“O! don’t take ages ..cries the
soul…
in more anguished pain…
suffocates the last breath
here , I strangulate .”

for long I had been
away from thy shelter
sneaking out of thine refuge
warping on false slumbers…
atrophied my stature
besotted I remained,
as the power of free will
diminishes ,
the mind emaciated…
Awhile the orphic shower cleanses
my deepest caverns…
let my petals secrete
at thy humble feet
the good , bad and evil
in a sacred disposition…

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…

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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
red-winged blackbird