Rhetoric

Ah! Exclaimed the unknown poet

Bidding adieu to the world of sleeping souls

“Will thou never wake up

anyday before the

temple bells  or will the sound of

 a blowing conch stir thy senses

Then thou would get up from the slumber”

In dark , have thou lived

Forgetting the golden hours

When the prismatic rays kissed

Thy temple’s horizon

…long before the birds sang thine praises

And perched beside the mangoflowers…

Now sleeps the land

and thou folks in inebriation of materialistic ,egoistic treasures

Leaving aside the golden strokes

of humanism….

Shattering idols of faith…creating statues of stone and places of fearful altar

Mingle thou in dust while thy soul shrieks to remind

illumine the cavern

Then would be the advent of

An age utopian…

@Soumya

The humming river

 

Let us flow like the perennial river

gushing past the rocks

through the valleys

and down the hills to

our heaven.

 

let us hear the song of chirping birds

play with butterflies

bloom with the orchids

and roll on meadows laughing

and cuddling over.

 

let us climb to the sky

catch the stars twinkling

and draw doodles

of love on heaven

 

will you come over

or beckon me there

to flow together

like the humming river?

 

An excerpt

She cleared the mist with her fingers etching the outline on the glass. The wintry night had left an envelope of thin layered fog on the window pane. She stood there every night after her dinner watching the lone moon hung in the sky. The moon wasn’t visible today and she was wiping the glass to have a glimpse .

The breeze knew the heartbeats of her soul and carried the message of her silent yearnings to faraway land of dreams,where dwelt the twin part of her soul.

Wasn’t it so unworldly, pocketing treasures in the casket of nature and reliving the moments at peace? Nothing mattered as long as the moon was visible to both ends of the world,they lived, breathed and felt the urge to communicate through the dancing waves of morning and night breeze.

How often the nightingales sang and the butterflies danced? Her eyes sparkled and knew the message was through.

Beyond several seas , the orchid had bloomed .

 

“My colour”

 

Allow me to paint  thou

thus in my  colour

Every stroke a gentle one

With a dab of aureate emblazoned

Where then  left thee in the dusk of life

towards an unknown goal

Its endless,

the walk of this journey

retread and

embrace

We  flames of divine

born as two souls

burn together

though far

at distant miles

in the lone fire of love.

©Soumya

 

The Old Tale

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.