“Tangles of Jealousy”

oh ! the tangles of jealousy,

where doth they drive one


the dark cave of hatred and false ecstasy…

how the heart like a chameleon turns

red ,sometimes bitter green…

Oh ! narrow minded alleys of such hearts

beware, thy happiness is momentary.. for

love in drops of divine

immaculate and selfless

is eternal and endless…

blossoms which on every perch is life

while moss forms on stagnant minds…

Try  ways

and acts

O! jealousy!

thy face will always be  decked

with superficial jewels

and a clear heart

will bejewel truth for serenity

©Soumya V




Where hath thou vanished in the blue
no shadow,no silhouette , neither can I see you
silent,quiet where doth you sit
under the blossomed tree of love,I await…
Is my fragrance lost , or my dreams fake,
where hath you gone dear,
Here, I await…
The moon radiant tonight smiles at me
did you not know, I await to see thee?
come back, O! muse,
here I await,
there is still time to bid adieu
from this heart, my mate!


O’ Raga !

O! Raga

the ancient rhythm of my soul, how cautiously you move

infinite waves rise and fall, dancing on

heartfelt tunes

crashing against the world

tis old traditions .. while weeps the soul in a nook

where art thou!

the blissful Raga

can I compose a melody just for you?

in monsoons

wet you with my verse

or soothe you with a lucid song

in summers?

the serene music of nature

what makes the fall smiling

when deciduous trees wither

the serene music of nature

Tis the rhythm of my soul

O Raga!

that beats on a celestial composition.DSCF4636

“The Silent Warriors”

Her eyes had become lifeless,
like a stone ,she stood unmoved, the life of iris had
turned into pebbles,
yet flowed from the depths of heart and soul
infinite incessant tears…
She was a mother, a wife or a daughter,
her voice deafened in screams of the martyr,
Tis the unmovable body of maybe her son, husband or brother,
nothing actually mattered …
He gave up his days of affection, lost nights amorous in the deep jungles infested
with insects and animals
deprived himself of sleep and rest to give us a realm
of freedom to live without fear…
he was hungry for days or sometimes raw food he ate
half cooked in deserts or on terrains
while we sumptuously enjoyed the delicacies ,yet grumbled on the pinch of salt
that was less in dinner…
do we realize while the handsome packet of salary in our pockets
we earned
an only risk of attrition & no apprehension of seeing the last summer…
why then like heartless beings we are ungrateful and forget the martyrs?
Those who lived and died for us, to fortify our existence and secure us a future
Don’t we owe a moment of grief,
a sense of gratitude or a moral responsibility
to support their loved ones ,
who laid their lives for cavalry
the silent 
great Indian warriors …

Flap the wings harder !

What’s next, cries the heart
which colour of sky shall
the eyes perceive,
 wrath of scarlet or
peaceful azure…?
flees the life of soul
faraway in the lap of hills,
in dense forests ,
lost in green…
where a ray of light cannot pierce
how would you find me,
here I hide
amidst the woods unknown,
better than
 lives seen…
In dark,I won’t shiver,
although the eeriness  will echo
crickets, bees, wild beasts
in their kingdom I roam.
none to rule, or proclaim
my clipped wings hurt in pain
years in the cage golden ,
stripped my strength
I wish to fly again…
Here I come
free I soar,
flap the wings harder , O soul!

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…




Isn’t the orchid pale today or

the azure lost its hues in frosty weather

the pink lilies too

seem dull

when the dusk appears little purple than

the scarlet pier…usual

forgotten in dead remains

as ashes they scatter in dust

reminiscences of the beloveds

who died one fateful night

last summer…

again prevails the same climate

transforms the camouflage of

flowers and world

Tis the sky who alone

remembers the fury

repercussions of war

in cold blooded atmosphere…

sulks the orchid tonight…

purple appears the crimson lover

stained in blood drops

dried and desiccated as humans of universe.