THE LOST PEN


I have lost my pen

its nib – golden

once scribbled ceaselessly

while the world retired

to the cushion of comfort every night

the quill loved to brush against the papyrus…

 

leaking on blank pages

the painful emotions

which were witness of sordid transitions

helplessly,

yet as a powerful weapon

narrating every encounter thus illegal…

 

where is the indite

where’s the instrument

the sword -that sliced reality

spear- which pierced the raw veins

dagger – which wounded the cold heart

as a potion for lovers

and deadly poison

for hypocrites

lost somewhere

… help me ,find my pen

Tis’ lost somewhere

in the desert.

Tireless eyes-


Tireless eyes–

watch the setting sun’s scarlet mask

a young morn, enfurling petals

The lonesome cacti in sordid desert

orchids blossoming as fragranced love in cold hearts of summer…

What if they become tired and close for few moments

Nay! The noisy chaotic shimmer of dutibound survival

shall enforce them to be wide open…

not long to reach their goal

The pair of epic witness

thus shall retire

Ne’er again …

the world would look beautiful

when those pretty eyes  close

the curtain forever…

Copyright @ SoumyaV2015

“THE PRICELESS GIFT”


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what should I gift thee,
a token of love wrapped
in silk
a kiss shall vanish
in the zephyr,
a rose will lose its colour
lacy pack of chocolates
soon get savoured in hours,
an attire would wrap
thou,
but soon will the thread get unleashed

…then
what should I gift thee…
which valuable jewel?
a diamond, gold, ruby or emerald
they lose charm
in glittering aura of thou…
The stones will fall apart…
then…
what should I gift thee
A book, which
can be treasured for years…
..oh no, it shall be stacked in the shelf
dust will be its companion…
A perfume shall fizz out in days
every gift is mortal…
Unlike the soul of mine and thee
which remains immortal…

O ! then let me pluck few moments
from the cosmic air
of universe,
bedeck them with flowers of love
scent with my songs of splendor…
tune in music with my chords
I would gift thee
this
ceaseless, priceless , immortal
treasure.

Fettered Mind


 

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photocredit:www.hdnewwallpapers.com

the fettered mind hell bent to break loose the cage

imprisoned since years , the thoughts unspoken

unnamed

could it ever see the light

wander free in the dark blue sky

can the wondrous cerebrations acquire

an immortal shape of imagination

and manifest in the atoms of life

as a splendid creation…

 

within the fortified walls

as die every inquisitive vision

thence strangles the birth of novel challenges

and revolutionary interventions..

 

open the gates, let the bird flutter and fly

provide the wings of courage

and atmosphere of freedom

then shall soar at greater heights

fettered mind, which possesses

 an invisible power .

Time


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photocredit:stylonica.com

Howsoever far soars the bird

It has to return to its nest in time…

Like a wandering nomad roams through

Yet tents in places at a specific time…

As a traveler,

the soul voyages on earth

before its assimilation with divine…

When the azure turns dark

and the leaves shrivel in autumn time

Or the flowers which bloom in spring

and seasons change

The moment of realization is predestined.

 

THE SONG OF MOCKING THRUSH


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photocredit:www.picssr.com

She is the mocking thrush
who on the high end branch
sings and perch
laughing at the world
on human errors…

Ah! she imitates in a hoarse voice
satirical,the cons of a
power game
and money launderers of
the affluent race
she hums the low note in tears
twitching her beak in anxiety…
hypocrisy ! thy name
of every face which dons the mask
while innocents become prey
to the hungry mouths of
greed and misery …

in melancholy ,she serenades
about the empty stomach of thousands
homeless shelter innumerable,
falter who on every path
while
a gory dagger butches
life
somewhere in the dark hours
echoes intermittently when the din of
explosion
haunting the survived ones;
wonders the mocking thrush:
“Oh! how I wish to sing a song
of love and serenity
shall I ever sing a tune
melodic and blissful”,
hiding amidst the camouflaged rue

The Old Tale


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photocredit:www.pinterest.com

Hence the old  tale  revives

from the night of dead

been in exile for moments

gasps and breathes

well in time

had a second been delayed

it would have faded the

fascinating tale..

nope! it can’t cease

as the mystical saga

liveth within the soil

is  deep

for the eternal lyrics

respire 

while the paroled speeches 

seek one another.