LIFELESS


Lifeless appears life
Whilst thou sleep through golden light
Having lost the moment and time
What remains is
mirage of life

Mere existence,
Forgetting to breathe
Unheard heartbeats
Criss cross shades umpteen

Lifeless life of monochrome
Tis monotonous if we forget to dream and wish
Colours deluged many a times
 frame remains colourless 

©SoumyaIMG_20170419_105658
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Rhetoric


Ah! Exclaimed the unknown poet
Bidding adieu to the world of sleeping souls
“Will thou never wake up
anyday before the
temple bells  or will the sound of
 a blowing conch stir thy senses
Then thou would get up from the slumber”
In dark , have thou lived
Forgetting the golden hours
When the prismatic rays kissed
Thy temple’s horizon
…long before the birds sang thine praises
And perched beside the mangoflowers…
Now sleeps the land
and thou folks in inebriation of materialistic ,egoistic treasures
Leaving aside the golden strokes
of humanism….
Shattering idols of faith…creating statues of stone and places of fearful altar
Mingle thou in dust while thy soul shrieks to remind
illumine the cavern
Then would be the advent of
An age utopian…
@Soumya
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The walk


The hanging branches of orchids which yearn to droop

And reach me

How enchanting they appear and soothing while their petals brush against my cheek

Isn’t the path where I step barefooted embrace my feet into its heart deep

While the nostalgic air brings sense of belonging to my traveling soul

Which remains awake for nights before it finally rests to sleep

Doesn’t the echoing bells of a temple nearby thud my core ,whence I vibrate with

my pulse dancing to the cosmic lore

will n’t I be teary eyed when overflows my core with emotions inexplicable and words get lost

in the forest where I travel

they like the new born leaves shy ,sometimes shiver as the dried aged ones do before they die

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Like a Bohemian


Like a bohemian she moved to places
A nomad at heart
as a bird in sky
swirling the colourful skirt of aspirations
paints down every town red and and streaks of turquoise

hadn’t the cuckoo perched every branch
hiding from the limelight
beneath the vast azure she vanishes
as a star during daylight

what if the colours create a motif
of a saga in humble words
she runs behind the tall corridors
where sleeps since years a history epical…

do not dissect the words or rhyme
forget to decipher or analyze
her pastels sing
her trinkets dance
words paint
and voice charms
faraway the bohemian lives
away from the world in a  realm of dreams
moving under thousand suns

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While the seasons played


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.

©Soumyaimg_20161029_174037

“My colour”


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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

Its endless,

the walk of this journey

retread and

embrace

We  flames of divine

born as two souls

burn together

though far

at distant miles

in the lone fire of love.

©Soumya

 

QUEST


 

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

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The Rainy Season


 

The Rainy season- A random musing

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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.

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

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