The walk


The hanging branches of orchids which yearn to droop

And reach me

How enchanting they appear and soothing while their petals brush against my cheek

Isn’t the path where I step barefooted embrace my feet into its heart deep

While the nostalgic air brings sense of belonging to my traveling soul

Which remains awake for nights before it finally rests to sleep

Doesn’t the echoing bells of a temple nearby thud my core ,whence I vibrate with

my pulse dancing to the cosmic lore

will n’t I be teary eyed when overflows my core with emotions inexplicable and words get lost

in the forest where I travel

they like the new born leaves shy ,sometimes shiver as the dried aged ones do before they die

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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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The Unsung Lore


 

the unsung lyrics of thou and me

reside in the involute spirals of life

sometimes being blown by winds of time

often displayed as colours of a tiny butterfly

Oh ! that tiny shell knew the lore

heard it while lying offshore

tis a fable of thou and me

sung by nature silently

beyond the perishable limits of life

crossing the impermanence line

yeah! it dwells like fragrance in flowers

as luminous radiance of moon for hours

in the dancing waves of the pragmatic ocean

in the notes of reed made with blades of scattered plants

growing far in forests or like the sanddunes of a desert…

 

Hear the melody

we blend as music and words

in moments of ecstasy.

 

 

DUST


That frame in the corner mocks

a layer of dust adorns

the past

who hath time to wipe

the cobwebs from corner

to cleanse the muck

lying since ages ov’r the stretched bond…

Lost I’m

how far, how long

how do I carry forth

none tried  hitherto…

then how do I ?

How far, how long?

nothingness ahead…

nothingness behind..

Grace me,

O! my heart.

©Soumyaimg_20160221_161825

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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I can’t let it die


I can’t let it die

The solitary poetic sigh

Which breathes in minute pauses

Betwixt the gaps of worldly duties and entangled chores

Neither let it suffocate in the fumes of  intoxicating insecurities

Nor allow the pangs of survival and existence wipe the ethereal pastels

Those vernacular treasures fastened securely in caskets of thoughts

Transform as they rise and glow as embers in the sky to twinkle till ages eternal.

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The Invisible Dagger


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Tis the invisible dagger that slits and pierces
an indifferent song again dances
on the thumping beats of my heart
yet again, the wound stings
letting the searing tears reign the start
blisters, how many,
how doth they vanish … by any magic balm?
I swallow the flood of extremeness
in a moment I hide behind my stretched smile
how far, how long
the deep bruise prolongs
let me know O! my lord
…under this dark
with thy drops of twinkle
I hope and hope till the last
of an infinitesimal moment
whence the flower will be caressed and
not slit with the invisible dagger
of a morning , of a dawn
of an era,
while I live on.

Tis impossible to forget

I cannot relent to the litmus testIMG_20151118_130041

tis the beat of my heart which absconded in the deep jungles

of consciousness

would I remain alive , without the pulse,

the blood would soon dry in the

subconscious veins

absorb me thee

my soul dying since ages.

“Ego & Love “


“EGO & LOVE

“fidgety fretful , always had been his heart
he threw tantrums whilst, love wept and scattered like shards
stamping arrogance he displayed
in a corner few tears she shed…
a silver bowl that bedecked
overflowed with pearls
precious…

what a paradox
epiphany in delusion
he flaunts false pride
of translucent treasures
in possession
while she drinks with her palm
cupped
an incessant intoxicating ale
from the open wounds of
her chafed heart ,
with a smile gentle…”

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