The Roadway

would it..
will it not?
the roadway to the final destination
would carry the fragrance of
soil... dried leaves and the sweat along?
will it spread the nostalgia of sojourn
while the swaying branch bends to
 brush the tresses
Will the dust speak of the crimson sunset
floating in the air
or of the wading birds bidding adieu
to lakes and pollen of distant flowers
will the anchor of sail...sing tale
of rough weathers
or the vessel explain the trembles of
turbulent waters
would the altar of purpose...
reverberate nuances of the voyage
....
Breathe then... inhale the redolence ;
...like a feather this
will vanish forever...lost,
 in the treading soil
of the travel...

@ Soumya

QUARANTINE SONG

In the crimson colours of twilight

as the wind kisses past

a fragrant flower shies

heart fills in redolence

and survives

through the mighty mountains

whence a river flows

The canary sings in quarantine

Hail ! O clouds ! quench the aridness of my world

Hail ! O mighty sun! Shine on the darkness of my earth

Hail! O Heart ! Cherish moments of joy or strife

Hail ! O Soul! Forgive and wish welfare of mankind

Hail ! O Human ! Treasure and Value the Gift of Life

-Soumya

DRIED

 
this time 
the ink has dried like my spring of feelings
parched over  time and ages
season seems frigid
buds remain unbirthed
flowers seem withered
stagnant is nature
nothing changes
arid becomes heart
tongue becomes voiceless
agony is the new me
pain is the new name.

©Soumya

Few steps…

 

few steps and we cross

the gateway of earth

after the crisscross of clouds and few norms

we land on an altar

of stars

beneath , the world appears minute like a dewdrop

here ,we stride in cosmos

beside the planets in backdrop

can we hold and pick them up

place in orbits as we thought?

Life or destiny

can it be aligned and designed as

we presume and want?

 

©Soumya

Redundant

 

I triumphed over  the odds

Sometimes to slash the thorns

the blossoms on stretched meadows

caressed  wounds while I galloped

as if flying on unicorn

A halt for a while , a shelter under a tree

gathering perspired breaths

rose the spirit to journey

Yeah ! it is the endless path

road to the ethereal resort

tents, huts , caravans

allure midway along

neither any fancies nor any whims

is abreast

to stop  the dreams

The   soul glimpses and carries forth

A new endeavor to survive on!

Gasp of air

via Daily Prompt: Sludge

While the thick muck of negative air strangled one’s soul

and stiffened become the veins

in moments life becomes a sore

when brushing aside the sludge of thoughts

Break ,they

the inside of your heart

warns a signal

an alarm

halt! watch and then walk along

Tis sludge

you shall gasp for air

While the wounded spirit slashes past

to rebirth and continue on path…

 

CHANGE OF SEASON

in thy longing I m lost

within the satin folds of warmth

between endless  heartbeats of life

whence will spring advent

the wishful flower thirsts

 

Whence thus…

Treading through rough terrains when in the invisible threads of world entangle lost is the soul in the tandem of livelihood and survival.

Whence thus, whence would

breathe I the fragrance of jasmine

play through forests of green firs

watch the golden over peaks Himalayan

tread along sands of flowing rivers

count the stars lying in a desert

dance with waves of an endless ocean

vibrate in tranquilness

under the sapphire

O! mighty one

paths many I traveled

found umpteen chronicles

thousand relics

but thou reside in me

I knew…

whence would then

thou reveal?

 

©Soumya

 

 

 

Isn’t that the world we dreamt?

Isn’t that the world we dreamt

loving daisies and tulips smiling

few stars to count in the bare open sky of a sleepless night

while the moon peeped and stared at our clumsiness and laughter

and the waves of Adriatic would caress the symphony of our souls in pleasure

Won’t that be the astral world of ecstasy

blissful and non pragmatic

divine and perpetual in nature?

Hieroglyph

 

Sneak I through the silence

shearing the quiet  fear ,

As I shred

filaments of pain in pieces and bury deep

in gravels of past .

The new saplings of hope grow and flourish

blooming cluster of flowers

few sprinkling drops rejuvenate when they are about to die

Tis law of nature , I , mere the gardener

Come ,lets drown the precarious apprehensions

And live freely to create murals as

hieroglyphical scripture