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
Dried , my ink with the dryness of my heart
bloodless have been my veins
thus the pen moves empty
scribbling lifeless words
meaningless thoughts
swiping away desires ,
eroding emotions
the heart stranded bruised and over bruised
with thousand wounds..
No, blood can’t be infused back
I run incessantly with blemishes
Life screams
soul weeps..
Can I ever express?
Can I ever say?
murmurs the inner voice
The random ruminations
struggling details
endless musings
thoughts ceaseless
turbulent apprehensions
intense emotions
words falling way apart
when the ink of life flows like the Ganges….
the arteries suffocate
what hath the social environ done
strangling wishes in the cage
flutters the bird a last time
before she forgets her own desire
…
how then would the heart speak
after being buried in soil nine feet deep
why then the soul screams
in silence when neither the world hears nor
peeps
Is it the solitude that echoes
and relishes the scathing pain
the lump in choked throat
or the blood of a slit vein…
the smile of the sad heart
or a laugh lame
…
how would the heart start
singing its own tale?
nay, it doesn’t glorify
nor intend to sermon
Tis the lonesome want of a
scribbling poet
Ya! listen comrade
lend a moment ,close your eyes
hear my soul’s tale
as drenches the parched heart
in desirous rain!
Endlessly my heart cried
eyes searching frantically in vain
“where art thou”
behind the curtain of life
is anything true or is all disdain?
My life ain’t a stage
neither I a performer to enact or flaunt
in mystical attire as perceived everyone
..I ,a mere soul
wish to be a lotus
blooming in the mud
admiring the sparkling moon afar
from the altar…
Allow me to be my real self
I neither wish to be a actor
nor my life a theatre…
Spare me O! world
from the pangs of hypocrisy
from the rings of falsity
let me break away from the glitter of gold and
tinkling of coins
I’m a mere soul
elated amidst nature
blissfully admiring eternal creation
I live for love and affection.
photocredit:stylonica.com
Howsoever far soars the bird
It has to return to its nest in time…
Like a wandering nomad roams through
Yet tents in places at a specific time…
As a traveler,
the soul voyages on earth
before its assimilation with divine…
When the azure turns dark
and the leaves shrivel in autumn time
Or the flowers which bloom in spring
and seasons change
The moment of realization is predestined.
photocredit:www.picssr.com
She is the mocking thrush
who on the high end branch
sings and perch
laughing at the world
on human errors…
Ah! she imitates in a hoarse voice
satirical,the cons of a
power game
and money launderers of
the affluent race
she hums the low note in tears
twitching her beak in anxiety…
hypocrisy ! thy name
of every face which dons the mask
while innocents become prey
to the hungry mouths of
greed and misery …
in melancholy ,she serenades
about the empty stomach of thousands
homeless shelter innumerable,
falter who on every path
while
a gory dagger butches
life
somewhere in the dark hours
echoes intermittently when the din of
explosion
haunting the survived ones;
wonders the mocking thrush:
“Oh! how I wish to sing a song
of love and serenity
shall I ever sing a tune
melodic and blissful”,
hiding amidst the camouflaged rue
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.
Photocredit:www.seekeraftertruth.com
ask the eyes that saw the black nights
of hunger
the only shelter, broken thatched
torn rag
and a sole shrouded cover.
ask the eyes
which witnessed death
while bloomed the buds
in innocence
toiled hands at work
to earn and fill one’s
stomach
ask the eyes
those which wept in loneliness
fought against the storms unseen
every bent, a new challenge
on every road
when hope was killed.
ask the eyes
which fear love
perhaps they think,
it vanishes
like the fragrance
of jasmine in air…
submerge they
in plateau of solitude
alone and bereft…
ask the eyes
forbidden
forsaken abandoned,
neglected, ignored and abused
the grief of survival
in distress, sadness,
and despair,
failure ,devastation or
battles …
ask the eyes
who have ne’er got enough
of anything
what is your identity
what is your sect
what is your caste or creed
what’s the name of your faith?
what is comfort, luxury
what ‘s your goal next
what’s your favourite destination
which holiday you liked the best
the silent eyes
in disbelief
will utter
only truth
looked up, an old fragile flower
gazing at the wide azure
savvying for a drizzle
which perhaps
could
rejuvenate its trembling veins…
in an instant
vanishes, the evanescence
in the zephyr
“O! don’t take ages ..cries the
soul…
in more anguished pain…
suffocates the last breath
here , I strangulate .”
for long I had been
away from thy shelter
sneaking out of thine refuge
warping on false slumbers…
atrophied my stature
besotted I remained,
as the power of free will
diminishes ,
the mind emaciated…
Awhile the orphic shower cleanses
my deepest caverns…
let my petals secrete
at thy humble feet
the good , bad and evil
in a sacred disposition…
soumyav 