Honored by Usha Ma'am & Rukhiya

Smelling Salt

>> Feb 10, 2011

I dream colours.
They come and create collage
while I sleep.

There is a nausea
in not seeing black.

You won't miss it
until it is not there.
It's almost as people who stand there
in our lives, as shadows;
And we forget them at nights.

The mosaic in my floor teaches me
the philosophy of life.
In all this shine, I see
my opaque face and feet,
together in one square.

I keep coloured scraps, glitter pens
and emotional hues.

On a rainy afternoon,
when sadness is a guest
To old bricks' house,
I will paint on the roof.

Mix oil pastel to rain waters then.
It smells a lot like life.


6 well-wishers:

kamna February 11, 2011 7:39 AM  

Mix oil pastels to rain waters.. it smells lot like life..

So true.. loved the title as well. Wise.
Yet another glory..

Cinderella February 11, 2011 10:16 PM  


I wonder if there is any difference between your prose and your poetry...for your prose flows as poetically as an uninterrupted brook just as glorious your poetry does.

Either way, they enchant.

Aayushi Mehta February 13, 2011 10:18 AM  


Usha Pisharody February 19, 2011 10:48 AM  

Lost in the maze of emotions that this give, Soumya!
It is at once liberating and confining. The insoluble pain, and the relief, one seeks.
Very very moving!

Anonymous February 19, 2011 10:21 PM  

All about one and so it is infinite

Anonymous March 07, 2011 9:02 AM  

There is too much of emotion in this...breathtakingly beautiful, in a painful yet addicting sorta way!!

loved usha ma'ms comment! that says it all :)

The Hungry Tide

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