Soumya Scribbles...

Then you will List , --your Tooth brush and My tooth brush --My Shaving cream --Your cosmetics --My books --Your music player --My clothes --Your clothes --A comb that we will share. --Some medicines I will check And pick up the pen To add -- -- + -- My Love -- Your love? Somehow of all the things, it had to be mentioned if for once we forget To leave it behind. And pretend We didn't , till date. SoUmY@ [Stone me .I know weirdness has its limits]

A collage of memories bring in autumn leaves To my window. A heart that rejoices lonesome interiors and admires Abstract arts , is poisonously indefinite,No? Though turtles race Abjecting time ,why can not I ? Is this the reason You paint the smoky sky With different shades? Wishes abounds fill the palette of my senses with coloured glasses As I observe gray streets from kaleidoscopes. But when its black, How will you protect My fragile self being unreal , Invisible? For its only Your touch What speckles the diamond ring from the eclipse that blots me black . SoUmY@ P.S.--I hate doing this but lemme put my visions.I know its not to be discovered unless its told.But try to match the far fetched analogy if possible. Time =society , turtles = the scientists who used to spoon feed religious preachers of then , kaleidoscope is said to be Galileo's invention first , You is obviously God , 'when its black' means when ppl r not to see the truth how can u speak the truth out ...

All the emotions I could give words to , have somehow dried up with my infidelity with pauses. Now ,they come at once, all too many and I find myself at loss with some rough sketches that were never coloured to poetry. Thoughts have left me with some sheets of papyrus which mock me with criss crosses that are too blue and too frequent. So I travel only in winters To laugh at the naked trees , To wink at your rough exterior And to redeem myself with companionship of being deprived. Still , quite unfairly A cold wind blows Through the windows and nudges my notebook as it strips itself up from prologue to rest , That I had shown dreams to of being limitless. But now, At the verge of perdition it takes revenge of of its countability, baring all. An epilogue awaits. and now So do I . SoUmY@

On moments such as those Sleep used to be pregnantly due for months , When you ,quite in haze with your own assurances Used to break the peace With your belongings,your acquaintances And your parties. Pandemonium had a sweet social escapade in 'gatherings' -- the way you termed it leaving me lonely,miserably alone On a bed that was comfortable for two and misplaced for one, night after night And yet another followed. So when we got separated , Finally in social eyes , I thought of the days I couldn't sleep because of The noise that distancelessly Formed a bubble In between us And burst one day due to my pinpricked tolerance. Then ,like a happy story ends With a spongy touch to heal The pains I had suffered , I set my eyes closed Only to realize there was too much of silence That night. I cried to fill in the void I sank myself in. Either way, An Insomniac. SoUmY@

He creates the backdrop, the lights and the shades. The curtain is coloured blue , detailing situational turnarounds , The sets ,the floors , the bends. And You enter as if unknowingly , Unnoticed ,questioning your own existence at that brink. Where in that stage The protagonists play aloud, Act with authority And remorse in silence , You stand under the sea of darkness Only to be a nobody but one. You clap after scenes , swing with the way the the puppeteer prompts invisibly to your emotions , timing your tears and laughs to Rich benefits, since you see nothing but real illusions. Only the events alter And time ticks on As you play the part of a mute spectator . Then One day your pink hopes Dilute in the colourless wishes of too many shades and leaves you amazed As another curtain falls... And never rises Again. SoUmY@

When I am not here, One day May be the sepiatic sun-rays Of dying afternoon Will haze my picture at the wall. And you , On that spur of the Moment will miss me from Missing Us. For some memories That would suffice such Momentary pain , That I was so relieved at being in love, You will search my cupboards, Drawers for something That would play the Narcotic to your restlessness. If ever , You find that red diary, with parchment glues and Dying fountain inks, You will get to know dear Of chapters I never shared Even with you. You will realize Why I didn't let you In to the Whole of me But Love to fill in for those unexplained pages. Some pigments are too acidic No ? SoUmY@

Yet again in this world An unruly Goliath will slay David , Another Judas will stab Jesus and we will count numbers after the world wars , I ,II ,III. The victims ,the anguishes , the helplessness. You will watch from Inside your house sheepishly,waiting an unreasonable fear. A normal death Would be so comfortably Unexpecting. Isn't it ? And then after the show , When you tranquilize your Conscience with sips of alcohol , You will read out some prophecies loud and go to bed To pounce upon your prey. And it will iterate. Life will recycle Until one day , You will blame the Sand clocks for not being Unequal Except the midnights. SoUmY@

You offer me Clouds I offer you rains, So that I pour down Unto you . You offer me a glass I delude opacity So that eyes don't miss Each other ever. You offer me words, I prefer silence , So that you speak And I listen forever, Mesmerized. You write me a poetry, I offer you me. To live beyond the parchments of words, I live In you, Without pauses. SoUmY@