the sojourn

and neither the travelers of this journey
nor the companions of births can comprehend
palette of colours I am emblazoned with
the saffron of divine
or the luminescent white of tranquility
when the earth is wrapped in muck
so is vision of masses
forgotten is conscience 
buried is compassion
through autumn , or fall
through winter or storms
sailed the fluttering sail
exhausted and torn 
wiped and worn...
may this sojourn end 
to the destined destination...
tired of flapping wings 
the avian wishes for its 
adieu ..
-Soumya 

Oxford Handset nay, am God’s clay !

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..

DEMISE

photocredit: googleimages

 

In the catacomb

lies the book

undusted,flipping pages

across

folds of time…

in sepulcher

rest myriad thoughts

buried emotions

locked inside the heart’s vault’

in labyrinth , like a untangled mesh

they lived weltered

amidst the scallop of mess…

kabbalistic

the epitaph on the stone

reclines in slumber

the manuscript.

Light of Wisdom

O! Thee, my ignorant mind seeks the light
there’s darkness everywhere,
knowledge flourishes,
learned is man,
who is the learner,dies the inquisitiveness…

Speaks every mouth,
who doth listen,
forgets the vision, to observe
ears deafen …

O! Thee,
searches my ignorant mind
for the lustrous flower
whose fragrance shall wipe away
worries and ego of power…

Amidst the clouded thoughts and views
of the intellectuals,
I, stand alone
look for that light of wisdom
illumines and kindles
the lost conscience of every soul and enliven.

photocredit:soulwritings.ca

THE REAL “ME”

In front of the mirror I stand,

to  find only an image and a   reflection,

where is me , the real ” I”.

I think….

hidden in this projection?

Who else shall showeth my real ” ME”

where shall I find the true literal self,

In which mirror

“I”  will be my self…

In placid waters,in clear skies

in a glazed glass

or a river flowing by…

in heart of whom,

in which eyes

shall  dwell

like my own “I”

….

Years and births I move and search

but none do I find in this world

where I live and  where I die….

Then where do I find the real me

in the heaven or in the hell,

in the astral world of another dimension

or in deep ocean …where fish dwell….

In my heart , within myself…

I discover the  shine,that I  possessed

that is the place where I shall see..

my own self and my real name!

“WEEPS AL- SHAM”

 The current situation in Syria is the one of the worst of ever happened in mankind. There have been other wars too but here the total number of children that have succumbed to the tunnels of death are enormous.There is never an end to the discussion or any kind of explanation regarding such outbreak of war but the fact remains is people are suffering and so are children.And that is the worst and the most helpless part! I dedicate these few lines to the land and soul of Syria!

Weeps the land of Al Sham,

An eerie silence follows the enormous explosion

Guns,mortars,bombshells

There’s no other  ammunition left,

cried the children ,in fear they fled

wandering through the lanes of dead

some searching for their kith,

Rest onlooked their kin getting  slayed…

 

Millions sleep to the ultimate rest

How come the heart doesn’t shred

bullets shot from whose guns…

is that what fetches the wrenched bargain!!!

 

Were they the saviors of the land ,       

or the ones who rebelled…

Unscathed wounds now bare

The deep secrets of the selfish humans…

 

Who holds the throne, golden embellished,

coated with scarlet blood of friends

What use the game of power

like pawns if treated in game of chess,

if the future of earth is marked with terror

…

What reign and regime the realm save?

 

For now the nation burns ablaze

innocents die a merciless death…

The future lies in darkness

helpless  brood  fall

like scattered

Under  Sarin ,the chemical weapon

…

Stop ! O! Mercenaries’

of  the blood

…open thy inner eyes for a second

Listen to the depths of your voice

Does it allow such massacre!!!

photocredit: www.latitudenews.com 

 

 

 

BEGOTTEN !

Turned around and never said a word,

forgotten the begotten love,

how ruthless can  a soul become!

when selfishness paralyses mind with fear!

Conviction is never treasured,

What a pity for the mankind of  today!

A man flees when confronted!

Battle of life he loses in the first step,

when self belief  and faith shakes ,

fear of losing the fame possessed,

obsession  of getting attached to the name…

Moron has become the intelligent human,

who dies every second,

and has thousand deaths,

enjoyment  and fun that exist in phrase.

for a second he cannot conjure,

mind,body and soul work together,

and cannot be pulled  in different directions…

luring, seducing woman on the street,

enticing the innocence ,

robbing the entity…

he killed the conscience instantly

while turning into a dead  living being!

PULL OUT !

From the darkness of minds where we are perishing,

lead us to love and light,

with the rope of trust and faith,

bring us out of the ravine…

 

Enough !!! We have been shaken,

by the tremors of the savaged creatures,

lift everyone of us …

from this drenching muck !

 

When nothing in the existence

can propel the change,

A thought from the conscience ,

shall pave the way…

Make us strong and courageous…

To face this brutality ..

and challenge its game!

QUONDAM AGE

 

Pages of the memorabilia fluttered ,few of them floated in the air,

dispersing the seeds of memories, in the barren atmosphere,

every leaf   had a history  filled with life and feelings attached,

lost,forgotten often ignored,by the self centred egocentric man!

 

Long before,he was mere,being just a commoner,

no money to buy luxuries, spendthrift was never his chore,

simplicity reflected from within,through his words and his lore…

considerate, striving qualities made him exceptional …

 

When couturier designs never labeled a person,

times when his disposition was his drive,

appearance  was an added feather,

the real plume was the gorgeous inner verbatim…

 

Impeccant smile flowed from the heart,

spreading to the end of the lips 

 shining through gleaming eyeballs,

happiness overflowed and flushed …

the lament of soul distressing! 

 

An old diary of the golden times,

disseminates the fragrance of those lovely days,

reminding the spirit of  the fallen virtues,

which got lost and receded…

 

The ambience too illuminates,

Experiencing the tangible reminiscences,

The soul gets overwhelmed…

seeing the  quondam age,….

Through the eyes ,drops of repentance wets,

wiping the guilt of killing the  conscience,

when God himself plays the recorded game! 

AVARITIA

Hidden behind the moments of time,

how long 

shall you be flying,

from perch to branch ,

leaping across streams,

wading through the thick woods,

vanishing in dreams…

 

 

Lost land of invisible wants,

cravings and desires of strange sort,

vast spread  of glittering stones,

sparkling and twinkling the eyes more….

 

 

Slipping out of the grip of my soul,

diminishing the stature of conscience grown,

the shine of the luxuries and lust,

triggers and fuses the heart’s bulb…

O! Avaritia ! how long will you run!