The Restless Soul
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
Blog’s Fifth Anniversary !
Dear friends,
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
©Soumya V
THE REAL POET
O! look ,there’s the real poet
who pulled out his heart
adorned it with
“the blows of ruthless love”
the mute feelings unearthed from gravels
slide as drops across the scar
creating a magical aura
in between the theme.
The silken imagery of fabulous scenes
diced with stupefying verses
dipped in the blood ink.
Oh! He rolled out his soul
on the streets and alleys
where once lived his wife to be
in the deserted palaces
and through the lanes of slum
wanders he , frantically.
Wondrously he conversed with the birds
Kissed the floating clouds
flowers danced to his tunes
in broad daylight , he fears
Under the starlit sky, he wanders
Alone he undertakes the journey
for miles in deep slumber
and in his solitude .
Look ! Oh! There’s the real poet
His soul dripping with blood and love
resented by the world
he now
is named lunatic
psychic he is referred to
on the path of destiny.
Diamonds
This poem is dedicated to my dear friend “SIHEEM” ,who last night encouraged me to complete the few lines that I had written as comments on her blog…
Though I haven’t completed any ,I just wrote this one out of the conversation we had on her blog.. . http://arabianroses.wordpress.com
Someone dear said to me,
” a poet’s thoughts are diamonds,
very precious and rare,
belonging to the poet himself…”
I sighed and thought,
“deep within a voice speaks,
when I get hurt,or I’m glad,
rather than speaking before anyone,
I pen it down in words,
the feelings flood and form a poem…”
She replied,” I will collect your lovely pieces,
that you left here on my blog,
please complete all of them,
they shall form a lovely song…”
My heart whispered,
“I’m glad and thankful,
that I found you… 
…
nobody has ever picked the pieces,
that I left behind in their view,
for they spoke of my heart,
some had tears in them,some smiled in parts,
everyone picked what they wanted ,
leaving the rest scattered …”
You are the only one to say,
“I’m picking up your diamonds”…
soumyav 