While my heart throbs in the Misty mornings of winter Thy soul snuggles for some warmth in my words I paint the sky saffron embracing thou presence Years ago beside you under the mulberry tree you had asked while scribbling my name on dust of a storm will thy be mine I had nodded carving thou inside deep notches Births later We sit and dream Away from one another by seven seas will there be a common sky a single roof where you would be the ink and I, the quill . ©soumya v
It has really been a long time since I interacted with all of you due to my busy schedule of parallel assignments and work. Yet the quill never stopped and the ink flows incessantly churning out the deep thoughts, embracing with love and weaving them in form of new verses everytime.
WordPress announced today that the’ Blog turns 5′. So its my blog’s anniversary ! This journey has been possible due to all the lovely blogger friends out here, who have stood with me since years.Each one of you have been equally important in my journey of blogging. This is my first blog and hence holds a special place in my heart.
Thanks to all of you – readers, bloggers and friends. Let me share a poem about birth on this occasion.
Who art thou?
The one who breathes in a cuddle of warm embrace
Tucking memories of every birth in tiny fingers
Whence thou arrive
from which land…?
From the soil of Beethoven or originated from the Rumi’s dervish dance
Had thou runneth beside the Ganga
or thou the leaf from the Bodhisatva
art thou the whiteness of Himalayas
or the pearl of a divine heart?
O! soul! Where art thou from?
While the soft lotus feet curl like petals
Will thou proclaim thy arrival?
O! Little one !
Welcome abode in the depths of our heart…
Thanks and best wishes
That frame in the corner mocks
a layer of dust adorns
who hath time to wipe
the cobwebs from corner
to cleanse the muck
lying since ages ov’r the stretched bond…
how far, how long
how do I carry forth
none tried hitherto…
then how do I ?
How far, how long?
O! my heart.
Allow me to paint thou
thus in my colour
Every stroke a gentle one
With a dab of aureate emblazoned
Where then left thee in the dusk of life
towards an unknown goal
the walk of this journey
We flames of divine
born as two souls
at distant miles
in the lone fire of love.
It has been long since I shared a word with you directly and somehow have been posting less poems than earlier,all because of busy schedules, other involvements and my new venture.
Yes, learning and evolving keeps us vibrant and lively. My new venture is a project I was working on produced by my newly established company “AUDUMBAR ARTS” which would deal with production of music videos, albums, short films and also organize art, music and poetry festivals in future.
As of now, the first video,a Punjabi Sufi fusion “Jogi De Naal” has been released today on Eid by Audumbar Arts in association with Zee Music Company.
This is a stepping stone for me and the newly born company.
Iam sharing the YouTube link with all of you here and hope you all would love it.
Kindly watch and share if you enjoy the song!
The Rainy season- A random musing
Like the beautiful flowers of palash, popularly known as fire of the forest, I was burning . The inner turbulence like the upheaval of tides made me rise and fall against the heavy rocks of life.
Had the shore been sandy ,I wished to have laid myself on the shore surrendering to the splashing waves of a sea,but nonetheless,it was n’t such.It was rocky.
Life isn’t what we dream and wish for! We have to create a path to realize this dream and then walk on it ,many a times getting pierced by innumberable thorns .
The fragrance which disseminates in the atmosphere is usually of the wild flowers growing on open meadows and hillsides, those which bring freshness in life and also in the monotonous mundaneness. Pruned, I loved watching birds flying in the sky, they seemed to be so happy, free and delighted ,marching towards their goal . Their wings unfettered and whistling to their favourite tunes they sang whenever they wished .
A sense of freedom filled the heart and I wished I could fly thus like the wading birds.
The riot of colours in the evening sky brought more nostalgia as I walked towards the mound on the top of the mountain. This rainy season, nothing had changed.
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