The pragmatic spirit


the pragmatic spirit
which failed to live as a free bird
pinioned to the ancillary pedestal with bondage,
a pit of darkened sphere
where like a dragon is a holocaust

in the feeble body,
a sunken heart,
fears swing of life
forgoing and abstract
stares at the time pendulum

under the lampshade orange ,
dawned a ray of wisdom
a veneration;
an assimilation of glitches
burns the scared pyre
illuminating the inner luminescence


the random conversation
misty eyes
choked voice
in midst of inner chaotic silence
affirmative or prerogative
one word replies
emotions suffocated
strangled in a knot
the lily beside, pleaded
few more moments sought
hesitatingly I nodded
henceforth
lone will be the journey
lone will be the path
under the blue
as two souls walk apart.

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 Twinkle


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skips the pulse , one breath I lose

a moment of your thought

when my eyelids gaze the blue

searching for the brightest star

its twinkle reminds me of you…

amidst the constellation

a unique stellar assemble

come closer ! I whisper,

as I capture Thee

in the quiet lake of my iris

to bathe in amor

the lotus petals seal until

the aurora pierces

the dark firmament and falls on the bud

about to blossom.

Oxford Handset nay, am God’s clay !


Oxford-English-Dictionary-001

photocredit:www.theguardian.com

Oh! am  god’s clay

soft , tender, smooth

yet can be brittle and tough at times

nay, I ain’t hail

from the breed

of proud ,haughty misnomers

who sparsely realize a drop

of tear worth…

neither they hath seen the

gory of dead or

the dreaded hunger

yet epitomize

words ..larger than life

social and palpable

..they have mugged the

Oxford handset

decks which every word as treasure

alas! never could their heart get drench

in the tragic rain of worries under the

shrouded

rain coat of superficial fashion..

The flames!


Ravishing, the tender filaments ,

those which tie the twin souls

often swayed which

in  breeze of amor

dipped in pool of sacred nectar…

unraveling the knots of past and present

which were long forgotten

vis a vis ,the flames of destiny

burning on the candle of verve …

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,
world,
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!