“Poets”- on my 11 th year of WordPress Blog

This is a special post as I complete 11 years in the WP blogging world out of which the early 3-4 years I had been extremely active. Gradually the activeness here reduced and other activities started simultaneouly but nevertheless, my gratitude to the WordPress Blogging world and my community shall remain forever. As my journey to every destination/ goal started from here.

THANKS AND LOVE TO ALL OF YOU.

Here is the special post:

Poets speak truth,

 I presume

in between lines and words

metaphors wrapped in a cosy shawl of emotions

personified as a beautiful bird

flying to an unknown destination

 in a

a silent night sailing

through fluffy clouds of hope and desperation

they assume

they fall,

 they rise and

sometimes become stagnant.

Poets write, poets bleed,

their only treasure the

hidden thoughts

 those which emerge on the blank pages of

a journal.

@ soumya

The process

when strings like gossamer hold and entangle

in between the soul oscillates and dangles

to scot free from earth , to flee to astral

while getting the impeccable sprinkles of divine conjecture’

amidst the push and pull

with the force of centrifugal

churns the spirit

essence of evolution.

DILEMMA

DRIED

 
this time 
the ink has dried like my spring of feelings
parched over  time and ages
season seems frigid
buds remain unbirthed
flowers seem withered
stagnant is nature
nothing changes
arid becomes heart
tongue becomes voiceless
agony is the new me
pain is the new name.

©Soumya

Attached , detached or free?

 

dangling from the last twig of  topmost branch

behind the shrub of small wildflowers

amidst the verdure of freshly borne feel

while the satin petals smile and bloom

dewdrops kiss the skin

gazes the flower upto the blue

while blushing maiden peeps from behind clouds

alike the pure emotions of heart

the lily attached to its tree

yet is detached and free…

winging to the sky …through day or night

while the  moon glides

 

©Soumya

 

In chasm of time

 

In  chasms of time shall the world

try to find

searching in remaining ashes

in the burnt petals

Fragrance! that would pervade

beneath the buried treasures

those alphabets of emotion

gazes of selflessness

while sprinkling dust

on  death of  time…

 

©Soumya

 

MANSION

built on the stacks of love

rendering moments with finesse and compassion

oh! so is the mansion of life

fitted with murals and sculptures of moments miniscule

…

would anyone bother to have a look

on the intricate work of bonds in details

will any glance ever realize

the pain of gathering the same

…

Often, everything gets lost in the long way

except the structure that

stands and the hands

which stacked the bricks…

 

©Soumya

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Few steps…

 

few steps and we cross

the gateway of earth

after the crisscross of clouds and few norms

we land on an altar

of stars

beneath , the world appears minute like a dewdrop

here ,we stride in cosmos

beside the planets in backdrop

can we hold and pick them up

place in orbits as we thought?

Life or destiny

can it be aligned and designed as

we presume and want?

 

©Soumya

Carved

 

amidst the rumbling chaos and storms

on the rock of life perpetual & strong

thy presence

cut and chiselled a new form

carving emotions on heart and piercing

the veins …

pricking to be alive every moment

every dawn

Tis inexplicable

the hammer

silent blow

and rock

awaiting new shape

new sculpture of life to be formed…

 

©Soumya

 

 

 

To that horizon…

Where land ends and meets the sky

dissolve the golden and earthy pastels nearby

to that horizon

O ! My love!

I wish to travel before I die

Where mingle our breaths

heart beats dance on same rhythm

to that universe ,

let us walk down

and create a new heaven.

where kisses the saffron ,

maiden earth in twilight of dusk so near

to that periphery of cosmos,

come ! Let’s glide and travel.

©