While the swindler burnt my cheeks with
its sumptuous golden glow
I changed sides back and forth
for a while I was in shade
hugging memories sheltered the autumn skin
while the seasons played
…
The silken locks refused to listen
falling like cascade disturbed the rhythm
the song of past struck
few strings in galore
the beats struck the chord
and music echoed.
©Soumya
She cleared the mist with her fingers etching the outline on the glass. The wintry night had left an envelope of thin layered fog on the window pane. She stood there every night after her dinner watching the lone moon hung in the sky. The moon wasn’t visible today and she was wiping the glass to have a glimpse .
The breeze knew the heartbeats of her soul and carried the message of her silent yearnings to faraway land of dreams,where dwelt the twin part of her soul.
Wasn’t it so unworldly, pocketing treasures in the casket of nature and reliving the moments at peace? Nothing mattered as long as the moon was visible to both ends of the world,they lived, breathed and felt the urge to communicate through the dancing waves of morning and night breeze.
How often the nightingales sang and the butterflies danced? Her eyes sparkled and knew the message was through.
Beyond several seas , the orchid had bloomed .
under the expanse of colours
where breathes life due to HIS desire
infinitesimal are such glimpses
whence overwhelmed is the atmosphere
yearns to express the soul
often losing words as eyes trickle few pearls
to compensate the mute emotion
away from the worldly plays
in silence cries the soul craving for eternity
and
The quest continues forever…
©Soumya
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
hieroglyphical scripture
In the backyard of her mind’s garden Where grew thousand lilies On ransom were few flowers… may be some Desires unseen… Oh! She knew it wasn’t easy She struggled all through to barter her dreams Breathing some fresh air she stumbled intermittently While the rocky terrains kept throwing obstacles in between… Now,what next?She kept thinking “Do I win, or I lose am I on the right way or the wrong my soul away on an exile what’s the predicament I tried again, I tried my best... I will again until finally I’m put to sleep in the grave Thence shall the soul rest" Until the pen has inscribed thoughts Until the sky has been painted red Until the sea sings my lore Until the river takes my breath to it’s door until few daisies sprung on the soil of her garden Until the veins have drop of blood to shed…
I can’t let it die
The solitary poetic sigh
Which breathes in minute pauses
Betwixt the gaps of worldly duties and entangled chores
Neither let it suffocate in the fumes of intoxicating insecurities
Nor allow the pangs of survival and existence wipe the ethereal pastels
Those vernacular treasures fastened securely in caskets of thoughts
Transform as they rise and glow as embers in the sky to twinkle till ages eternal.
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
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.
soumyav 