While the seasons played


While the swindler burnt my cheeks with

its sumptuous golden glow

I changed sides back and forth

for a while I was in shade

hugging memories  sheltered the autumn skin

while the seasons played

The silken locks refused to listen

falling like cascade disturbed the rhythm

the song of past struck

few strings in galore

the beats struck the chord

and music echoed.

©Soumyaimg_20161029_174037

An excerpt


She cleared the mist with her fingers etching the outline on the glass. The wintry night had left an envelope of thin layered fog on the window pane. She stood there every night after her dinner watching the lone moon hung in the sky. The moon wasn’t visible today and she was wiping the glass to have a glimpse .

The breeze knew the heartbeats of her soul and carried the message of her silent yearnings to faraway land of dreams,where dwelt the twin part of her soul.

Wasn’t it so unworldly, pocketing treasures in the casket of nature and reliving the moments at peace? Nothing mattered as long as the moon was visible to both ends of the world,they lived, breathed and felt the urge to communicate through the dancing waves of morning and night breeze.

How often the nightingales sang and the butterflies danced? Her eyes sparkled and knew the message was through.

Beyond several seas , the orchid had bloomed .

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Blog’s Fifth Anniversary !


Dear friends,

It has really been a long time since I interacted with all of you due to my busy schedule of  parallel assignments and work. Yet the quill never stopped and the ink flows incessantly churning out the deep thoughts, embracing with love and weaving them in form of new verses everytime.

WordPress announced today that the’ Blog turns 5′.  So its my blog’s anniversary ! This journey has been possible due to all the lovely blogger friends out here, who have stood with me since years.DSCF4103Each one of you have been equally important in my journey of blogging. This is my first blog and hence holds a special place in my heart.

Thanks to all of you – readers, bloggers and friends. Let me share a poem about birth on this occasion.

Who art thou?

The one who breathes in a cuddle of warm embrace
Tucking memories of every birth in tiny fingers
Whence thou arrive
from which land…?
From the soil of Beethoven or originated from the Rumi’s dervish dance
Had thou runneth beside the Ganga
or thou the leaf from the Bodhisatva
art thou the whiteness of Himalayas
or the pearl of a divine heart?
O! soul! Where art thou from?
While the soft lotus feet curl like petals
Will thou proclaim thy arrival?
O! Little one !
Welcome abode in the depths of our heart…

Thanks and best wishes

©Soumya V

“My colour”


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Allow me to paint  thou

thus in my  colour

Every stroke a gentle one

With a dab of aureate emblazoned

Where then  left thee in the dusk of life

towards an unknown goal

Its endless,

the walk of this journey

retread and

embrace

We  flames of divine

born as two souls

burn together

though far

at distant miles

in the lone fire of love.

©Soumya

 

QUEST


 

under the expanse of colours

where breathes life due to HIS desire

infinitesimal are such glimpses

whence overwhelmed is the atmosphere

yearns to express the soul

often losing words as eyes trickle few pearls

to compensate the mute emotion

away from the worldly plays

in silence cries the soul craving for eternity

and

The quest continues forever…

©Soumya

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The Rainy Season


 

The Rainy season- A random musing

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Like the beautiful  flowers of palash, popularly known as fire of the forest, I was burning . The inner turbulence  like the  upheaval of tides made me rise and fall against the heavy rocks of life.

Had the shore been sandy ,I wished to have laid myself on the shore surrendering to  the splashing waves of a sea,but nonetheless,it was n’t such.It was rocky.

Life isn’t what we dream and wish for! We have to create a path to realize this dream  and then walk on it ,many a times getting pierced by innumberable thorns .

The fragrance which disseminates in the atmosphere is usually of the wild flowers growing on open meadows and hillsides, those which bring freshness in life and also in the monotonous mundaneness. Pruned, I loved watching birds flying in the sky, they seemed to be so happy, free and delighted ,marching towards their goal . Their wings unfettered and whistling to their favourite tunes they sang whenever they wished .

A sense of freedom filled the heart and I wished I could fly thus like the wading birds.

The riot of colours in the evening sky brought more nostalgia  as I walked towards the mound on the top of the mountain. This rainy season, nothing had changed.

Hieroglyph


 

Sneak I through the silence

shearing the quiet  fear ,

As I shred

filaments of pain in pieces and bury deep

in gravels of past .

The new saplings of hope grow and flourish

blooming cluster of flowers

few sprinkling drops rejuvenate when they are about to die

Tis law of nature , I , mere the gardener

Come ,lets drown the precarious apprehensions

And live freely to create murals as

hieroglyphical scripture

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