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.

“My Life ain’t a stage “


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.

“THE PLAGIARIST”


Often you picked choicest of words
from the cluster of flowers of my blossomed garden
they fragrance of altruism
Pick pocketing the few saved pennies of thoughts
from the remuneration of my expressions
which loved to jingle
in the profundity of
my creation
snatching the ideologies
presenting in the coterie
bouquet of compliments, applause,
awaits at your doorstep
with bestowed honour

a swindler,
plagiarist,
or
a weak feeble warrior in life
how do I call you
a mere
borrower of emotions?

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THE LOST PEN


I have lost my pen

its nib – golden

once scribbled ceaselessly

while the world retired

to the cushion of comfort every night

the quill loved to brush against the papyrus…

 

leaking on blank pages

the painful emotions

which were witness of sordid transitions

helplessly,

yet as a powerful weapon

narrating every encounter thus illegal…

 

where is the indite

where’s the instrument

the sword -that sliced reality

spear- which pierced the raw veins

dagger – which wounded the cold heart

as a potion for lovers

and deadly poison

for hypocrites

lost somewhere

… help me ,find my pen

Tis’ lost somewhere

in the desert.

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 ornamental rhyme


The ornamental corridors
of an ancient palace,
witness the elegant sway of
an embroidered golden veil.

Ah! she forgets to hook it
to her waist
and
dances in air on the wondrous call
of the peacocks singing under the blue…
They must hath seen the greyish tinge
…announcing the arrival of
a drizzling scene…

she hurriedly … leaves behind
an incomplete verse
a half note
on sitar
she’s half decked,
her black locks falling like the
ocean waves, behind her neck…

The bottle awaits
for the quill to get dipped in
ink of love
and
the papyrus stares
when will the wondrous words emerge…

The mizzle drenches
beauteous creation
magnificence of
which strikes an awesome glare
fallen drops
rhyme
while they slide down the
dancing figurine !

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“THE PRICELESS GIFT”


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what should I gift thee,
a token of love wrapped
in silk
a kiss shall vanish
in the zephyr,
a rose will lose its colour
lacy pack of chocolates
soon get savoured in hours,
an attire would wrap
thou,
but soon will the thread get unleashed

…then
what should I gift thee…
which valuable jewel?
a diamond, gold, ruby or emerald
they lose charm
in glittering aura of thou…
The stones will fall apart…
then…
what should I gift thee
A book, which
can be treasured for years…
..oh no, it shall be stacked in the shelf
dust will be its companion…
A perfume shall fizz out in days
every gift is mortal…
Unlike the soul of mine and thee
which remains immortal…

O ! then let me pluck few moments
from the cosmic air
of universe,
bedeck them with flowers of love
scent with my songs of splendor…
tune in music with my chords
I would gift thee
this
ceaseless, priceless , immortal
treasure.