Honored by Usha Ma'am & Rukhiya


>> May 18, 2009

To perform the duty
that is poetry,
I sat back on my wooden chair
to relive the bygone days of playfulness
with words.

Its a calm night.
As the rains fantasize bout the dreamy moon,
So do I, about words that are hard to come by.

A forced poetry is like
asking an ice to get burnt into ashes.
Ashes - will they, ever?

I wonder if I am that beggar in the street
who is more sure of living the next day
than the residents of the high rise afar.

Because both of us have nothing to lose...
... and more importantly, nothing to preserve.

Sensitivity is like an empty piggy bank when you are like me.
You recollect and break yourselves into halves, threes n fours
Still they refuse to come; spent n dried - amn't I?

I still admire the showrooms glittering in neon lights,
the poets who create music with words,
the lives that make us dream.

And while finishing the undone trial of another false verse,
I become too conscious of a missing fullstop (.) in my epitaph.

They say,
the dots were never required.

I know,
I had nothing left to fill in the blanks



14 well-wishers:

Usha Pisharody May 18, 2009 6:29 PM  

Jeeezuzzz, Soumya! (I am sorry for swearing so blasphemously too, but I simply cannot help it!) You take my breath away with this piece.

Now I know I call you the Philosopher for a reason. In fact each new poem you share gives me a glimpse, deeper into the mirror, that you stand in front of.

Jittery? You?
That beggar? You?

That empty piggy bank? Never you.

May the full stops ever be hunted, and may the blank spaces be there, for your to fill and thrill us, with your special touch!

Each stanza shouts out in abandon, no matter what they shout, be it angst, pain, hope, terror and despair... all of it conveys itself with such immediacy, that , as usual, I am open mouthed at the sheer, sheer genius in the stroke. The Master Puppeteer you are with those words. You are!

I have always but always wanted to write so, do you know? A little philosophical. A little complex. Very abstract. And yet something to draw empathy.

You manage all of it with such ease!

Kudos my young Philo'! I am enchanted by this verse!

Usha Pisharody May 19, 2009 6:13 AM  

I rather like the font too.

Conveys more with the unfrilled, and simple typewriter like unvarnished truth!

ananya chatterjee May 19, 2009 7:26 AM  

nice work.......
reality sucks....very tru

NesQuarX May 20, 2009 4:32 AM  

Hmm... nice... Strangely, it may be due to my own presumptions but this piece sounds like coming from someone who has just lived these lives but does not call them his own. Y'know... something of a third person POV. It's that hint of "then who?" that I especially like.

Musings of a wanderer May 22, 2009 1:14 PM  

The piece is good but I found the metaphor ice to ashes a little odd !

Muse May 23, 2009 2:18 AM  



Varya May 23, 2009 12:12 PM  

"Still they refuse to come"Ah, words... When verse even as deeply carving and curving as yours fails to serve its purpose, provide what its meant for - a purgation to the soul.... Yes, it does seem then, that words refuse to come to aid. No words can fill the empty spaces in the heart which are indeed naught but ineplicable, echoing, apocalyptic emotion.

Soumya, God Bless!

Sashu... May 24, 2009 9:47 PM  

i hav read diz almost haf a dozen, and AP..N yet, i never dropped in a note..well, words wouldnt appease to flow :) spell bound, i am!! finally, i decided to come back later...not read it agin, n juz comment :)

loved diz!!

kamna May 25, 2009 6:19 AM  

amazing..reality can be so bfully expresses...u master that!
U know this is something having essence of Hafiz Shirazi's philosophy..what an elevated thought!

Soumya May 25, 2009 10:32 AM  

@ ma'am

Lemme use a lengthier exclamation ma'am. Jeeeeeeeeeezuuuuuuuuuzzzz... Lol.

WOw. I can't even say thanks to this comment coz I am beyond being overwhelmed.

Honored in true sense of term.

hehe. thanks for the theme part. Coming from a blogging enthusiast like you, I will be more than glad to take it.

@ Ananya

Glad to see you here. God bless.


Egjactly. right on the dot. Thanks for being present :)

@ Trinath,

So glad to see you here after a while. part of my unsocial being is responsible for that too. You are right to point out the phenomenon. That was what I was trying to prove too...

Ice can only melt, to burn it into ashes you need something odd, that is not there in real :)

Thanks anyway.

Rini, :)

Madeeha, a welcome presence of yours and characteristic deep introspective words are enough to make me feel that the jitters created good ripples. Thank you. Hope you are doing fine. God bless.

Sashu, as I have told you, the place and the time is not important. You just have the free license. Thanks for using it here. Am glad.

Kamna, always inspiring, motivating to the extent of spoiling me. Thank you will be a formality. God bless.


Cinderella. May 26, 2009 4:18 AM  

So many random thoughts conjured up so delightfully in one single piece !

Loved this !

p.s : So much was going in my head before I started writing this comment, then I read Usha's comment above and now I am clueless. I'll just echo here.

Krishanu May 26, 2009 6:45 AM  

Good Post! But I didn't understand whether it was a poem or a prose.

hary!! May 27, 2009 7:58 AM  

Hi ...jst came across yur blog...swell that was!! too mny in a single load!!

Soumya June 05, 2009 11:48 PM  

Thank you Cindy, glad you liked it so much :) Always a support you are.

@ Krishanu, thanks. I never was utilitarian enough to define what is prose and what is poetry and what do I write. I just scribble. Let's put it at that way.

p.s. -> I visited your blog btw. and you sure preach wonderful poetry, I loved them. God bless.

@ hary

That comment was a swell too. Thanks for the rushing in :)

The Hungry Tide

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