Soumya Scribbles...

Then we fought again. the other day. You for your idealism Me for mine. And inside these yours and mine We died. Pretentiously Our lives held on to a wire That we knew Would eventually cut Both ways. But again, We had started loving Red By then. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

We pretend And assure ourselves Of our immediate present as a foregone past. Acidifying our senses, Our emotions and our reactions, Should I believe We aren't together anymore ? Still we act so natural. But do we ? Actually? In our stackfull of memories We see each other, Feel each other, Understand & Reciprocate But still choose to believe there exists nothing, Anymore, After that mutually dreadful day. So I want to ask you just once, Then why do you breathe a silent sigh Whenever I say "good bye..." !! To meet and act as strangers Is so easy for our nerves That we just forget Its not that so to Depart as lovers. Some questions are self-explaining. If not, Then I will take that sigh for an assurance... Anyday With you around. Relation unnamed. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

Breathlessly I Stand my ground And like dreams hushed up YoU DaNcE A .n ..d I catch myself in the same tune. (A reverie that Seals us into{one}, SUMmation of sentiments +++ ++ + Deep feelings, Abundance in joy All tending & Merging & fulfilling its tangibility Into That special One, When every day is a FULL moon () Every moment is so special.. And when confession is so obvious THAT you almost forget To say what... And what not... In that moment none of us ARGUE Why should we Fill and refill exact words, when We realize you and I are just A R O L!o!v!e! U N D SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

Its so easy to say Life is like that. A breath of fresh air And a mindful of dreams Nourished, Nurtured. Expectations. But Under scrutinies, Cautious eyes & social obligations,it Kills the essence of spontaneity. Still we love, With idealism Romancing with honesty And a pure heart. Soon realizing It isn't happily conclusive always. False attires, Diminished hopes Sweet poison,everyday. Kills you ,doesn't it ? But in this Earthy catchfire And a lachrymal outcry Something remains. Though being apart We feel the reassurance of Sharing the same sky & the same stars. May be in the sweet nothings A piece of gold? Charming,Inspiring... Between the two hearts, Unclaimed, Unhindered & shyly The fluid just soothes the inferno Of a non committal relation.. The solute,that is, Just is Feeling together Being in magic ! SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

You still have those things, The gifts i sent, The letters I wrote & The poems I had dedicated. The ice cream cups, the chocolate wafers. & All the sweet nothings. People call me insensitive. May be a paranoia. 'Cause I don't have those Which you have of me. How would i tell you and why should I tell them, That Only a blink of an eye Was enough for me To relive those days. Can't you see I had you & I have you , the whole of Us As my memorabilia. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

I will be burning again In your desire, In the passion of the Unblemished flame. And if not the lesion ignites one more scarface I will alone usher in the paradise for Us,for love. "Hurt me Burn me ..." Will scream my soul. I want to rekindle from the ashes Of your memories Where You burnt me in thy passion And I loved thee in salvation... SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

he stumbles across the streets And murmurs the deepest agony . I can feel it. Isn't he the poet we knew, We admired? Is he a past now... forgotten between the pages And the words of the caricatures ... So I went up to him. And offered him a helping hand. If ,at all,he holds on to them and the words bloom Like the yester days. But it was not to be. he crawled up his way, Himself. And seeing my eager face Realized my greed And he agreed. On a torn paper With a pen that didn't seem To be mightier than a sword at all. He wrote ---- "Your life has a deeper poetry Than my pen can ever offer." And i stood amazed. His seemingly impotence was the highest enlightened bit Called Life. Powered by ScribeFire .

Sometimes we Hold each other in Love's embrace And a softness radiates Inside me for you That transforms the glow In your face. And i can read between Your eyes. If you say the truth Or the lie,fewer times? For each day you dedicate me a rose Calling me better But I can sense When it is a pretence And when it is just Me. Inside you I reside. So When you say you love me .. And you mean it, I gasp.. Cause it makes things So much harder for the times When you don't. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

I scribble past The words Just to realise There is this endless space waiting for your pen To write on But You are the one Who is Running ahead of it.. Or May be Falling behind ?? SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

How well can you Conceal the fact that The poet Lived, Wrote, & Left. And still the best poetry Took birth When he wasn't here Amongst us, But Inside. With the ink Called remembrance. *** ** * (...the mortal speaks...) And I had considered Presence is such a bliss Never knew Absence as the vaporising agony. SoUmY@ [This is a special tribute to all those poets of Ah,poetry who have left for some reasons.That include Latha mam,Sunita mam,Gopal,Manan,Sashu et al ] Please pardon my memory if I have missed someone very dear.AP will always miss you no matter what Soumya scribbles in incoherence & will be hopeful if ,someday,they just come back.. Powered by ScribeFire .

We write & rewrite A renewed verse. Some lines scribbled Some scratched.., An undiluted form of art,-- Crude,fresh Innocently revealing. Then we hide , From here and From there. Words invoked, Expressions discharged. And we guard ourselves beneath the poetry. Parchments pile up One , two, many. We hide beneath the hidden meanings. And one day it suffocates... Is there any place to resurface? We gasp under the falsehood. And a paper buries us yet again Silent,blank,-- Speaking the truth for Us. What we couldn't But did our Ephemeral Epitaph. SoUmY@ [P.S.--This seemingly unrealistic thought process has a special note of thanks to give to Rukhiya for her warm and sensuous touch on this subject and for enlightening me with them] Powered by ScribeFire .

Hush! Do not tell me yet The words I want to hear. Let the magic remain. Let it linger between The expected & the obvious. And when I go wild, Love me. Your eyes for my assurance. Your silence for my certainty. If I ever ask "How do you keep things vague" Give me a kiss. The buoyant feeling Would replete itself With the ethereal nectar. .... ... .. . And a bubble bursts! SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

Drenched in rain I saw words oozing out Of my breath, My blood And i felt empty. As the last word went out In discomforting disdain , I realized A poet's soul salvages Just when he can live Without words for Silence. My perforated soul embraced the much awaited Vacuum. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

...And you sit motionless Your grip tightens on my hand Your face expressionless, Still voices grief, anger & helplessness. Me? I look down With my inabilities to hold on to you. And wait for a moment When you would B ...U .R ....S .T out.. The moment never comes. (Silence.....) prevails And I walk away, Awaiting endless moments And answering uncountable silent questions. Which you could have asked out L.O.U.D. Which you could have reacted on Retaliated on. You kept (.... numb ) I wondered. If only you could have been A bit more humane And a bit more Immature. I would have loved the pain Than being denied from it. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .

FIRST LIGHT A baby is born What is so unnatural? Millions do. But look, the baby holds onto his mother And those twenty six flowers Brought for him from nowhere. A POET GROWS He never had trouble With words Unlike making friends Unlike in the field. Unlike losing virginity And he found his strength In expressing himself. So he chuckled. THE POET LOVES HE didnt know Whom he had to love But he loved her. That brown eyed girl. And he realized his poems fast and with sense and feel. he realised this is love. So his silent gestures & lovable metaphors agreed on sweet consequences. And they walked in rain and made love Thereafter. , ; . Then there was that Blue eyed girl. Along came poems. He got confused. But felt enriched. It was his 'poetic liberty'. He reassured. THE POET MATURES The poet matured. So he thought And he became popular. He went certain As he could bring in fresh leaves From autumn trees. As he couldn't 'teach' poetry And as he got applauded Every tim...

An absolute pause Awaits the moment. Where I can laugh I can cry, I can surrender and Reign over me. MORALE : Life is strange. We know the obvious Still we ask for assurance. Self-satisfaction, Is it? I stand quiet. Almost breathless Expecting your whisper That will fill the heart. My eyes are closed. Vision is such a certainty I don't need it right now. MORALE : But it never came. Look through the rain Why don't you accept reality? Does it hurt too much? Still love ponders on Nothing.. I get soaked in rain I drench in realization Beyond that mist of sustenance There is no one standing. And I see my emotions Diluting Yet again. As I await The next rain. MORALE : Love remains. If not between you and me If not as a visible bond But in the pure daylight, In the emotional rain, In the vibrant nature And in You. .... The morale dies. But the girl remains. Reassuring herself If ever For a moment Wonder strikes And he utters Ssssh.......... ...............Love only. Dream on. SoUmY...

I gasp... A bit of a breather.., And I look out of the window. Is it a dark moon night?? I wait for sanity But only grimace sustains.. A sense of cruelty hovers around Devaluing my conscience. No pity, No mercy. I get down. I don't want to be the hunted. So I slit my wrist. In the lost city of humanity I sit victorious Waiting to ooze the venom Out of me. And I die. So as to live in purity. Impunity I claim. SoUmY@ Powered by ScribeFire .