Skip to main content

A Promise

Tiptoeing through the
Darkness as the First glow
Reaches us,
I come out
In that shivering breeze
And a blue sky.

As I progress with
Naked feet, the dew drops
die of innocence
Comforting ,reminding me
Of the last night's
tenderness.

And I run like a child
Willingly leaving all my
Burdensome adulthood
To the horizon
Where you paint a bit of a yellow
As if alluring me into it.

Happily I reach afar
Till I fall short of breath.
Panting I return,
Promising myself like a teen
That I would walk some
Extra yards
Tomorrow,
So that one day
I reach where You
want me to.
Heaven on earth.

SoUmY@

Comments

Rukhiya said…
Such insights into the journey to realisation should be taught in schools. You are a wonderful being Soumya and this is how it manifests.
Usha Pisharody said…
Childlike, yet all knowing, and yet a simple wisdom in the poem!

Beautifully captured!

Popular posts from this blog

Untitled

You travel - Through unknown stations, passing empty paddy fields. over quiet rivers that rest beneath you. You bring a lot of earth along, And smell of mud, fish scales and trains.  You whisper and scream, Put your nails in me, occasionally call it love. Other nights, we make peace. Strangely at dawn, When the Sun rises and you see me sleeping,  I hear your whisper,  you travel ...   ... Deep inside me.

Untitled

Wish I could be a cloud one day I will love to be grey if its you To whom, through whom I traverse. Transparency is optimum; For I know you are unattainable like the sand escaping from the fist like the meaning assumed from the gist. look, oh yes, I can rhyme too. If you wish I can artify our world. Inspiration never needs a permit. You had asked, Why do I vomit blood. Interruptions in dreamy un-realism doesn't suit me. I know. So I write. So that I can breathe you in and breathe dreams out. Live long, you had wished. (Wished), did you? honestly? I will let it pass like just another Failed attempt to face reality Finds itself en-route to contamination. Oh! then what is pure? you may ask. Purity is not you, not me, but us. Purity is the way verses traverse. I will vomit to death one day. Do not pray for me. Pray for my poems who are quiet. Let them borrow my breaths. Let the poetry for us live. (And the footnotes conclude:) You - a miser in love Me - a happy lender. SoUmy@

Together

I sit here to write An epic of love But words don't pay heed To my flowing senses. But what I write is about you. Who held the rain at her footsteps, Who could love the way Gothics shy And who can heal my scars Like I never had. And what I write is about me. Who drenched in the rain Like the raindrops, Who was loved the way He dreamt never. And who cried in the happiness beyond. So if ever the rain stops I would stand near you. If ever the scars anew I would feel your healing touch. If ever I don't sleep I would breathe you to sanity. On that rain soaked sands of Seashore And above the presence of lonesome moon, You would murmur the gentle song That I would echo in silence. And would pray, Somewhere,tiptoeing my wishes Dreams will rush up To another moment of blissful song offerings... SoUmY@