Soumya Scribbles...

There were times when I used to find nature selfish Because it was seasonal; And not like poetry that comes Even in the outrageous summers or rusty winters Or catalytic rains. Its been long Where Memories have flooded down Many a prayers That had names of us and verses. I still stand under that pine Where words used to come to me Like soft breeze that blows within, For inspirations better lived with you. Today this pauper poet awaits them And the pine leaves fall as if gifting me A silent poetry of yours, in rhythm. I still search for those crystals that My palms had soaked thence. The color of blood was faded that day. SoUmY@

I will put the lights out tonight. Certainty is not you, I know. On the floor where scented sticks burn themselves with aroma, I will remember you. Oh, till how far should the memory be traced If I wish to remember? I will leave the doors open tonight. You are in disguise, I know. In my balcony where full moon reflects And lends me a hazy twin of hers, I will see you refracted inside me. Oh, till how far should the lights obey physics If I wish to see the seen? I will dance in the rain tonight. "Rain is mine", you used to say, I know. On that lawn where droplets evoke soily smell And cold breeze iterates, I will soak you inside me. Oh till how far is it raining? Tell me its the same the droplet that wets me, awaits you. SoUmY@

There will be ours And there will be yours. But what if creations cry out, What are the creators' worth? How can you distinguish Which rose to choose If ever you knew, one plucked Makes the others cry? SoUmY@

In winters I woke up And saw blood in my hand. Blood- of conscience or of realization? I watched my epidermis peeling itself off, As if in hatred for my flesh. Unaffected me crawled across my bed. Because I know, At night, sheepishly When I will come out of My snake skin, I will forget about blood of theirs that had stained mine. I will rejoice the spring Anew. SoUmY@