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 !
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
words ..larger than life
social and palpable
..they have mugged the
decks which every word as treasure
alas! never could their heart get drench
in the tragic rain of worries under the
rain coat of superficial fashion..
In the catacomb
lies the book
folds of time…
rest myriad thoughts
locked inside the heart’s vault’
in labyrinth , like a untangled mesh
they lived weltered
amidst the scallop of mess…
the epitaph on the stone
reclines in slumber
Light of Wisdom
O! Thee, my ignorant mind seeks the light
there’s darkness everywhere,
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”.
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
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
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
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!!!
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!
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!