Soumya Scribbles...

I will confess to the tree About the times I had spent underneath with you. Rain tastes the same, feels the same Brings back you and memories Wherever. I see sunrays draw many a tangents Through the window over the shelf Where you and I reside, mute, in albums. You died once. I die many a deaths each day. For remembering you at moments when I wish not And for I wish if I could remember at some others. The flames overwhelm from both sides. I jump. I love winters for nature is at loss then. Just like me. And for memories that burn me from within, I become a victim Where life plays voodoo and I lose us, All too often. SoUmY@

Sometimes I stand near the window- Old fashioned, rusty with fading colors. It shows me an eyeful of sky Where clouds conspire and turn black. Clouds are like memories, no? You know it will rain, but when. I see the quiet lane in a midsummer noon. On one such day my kittens ran away And never came back. I wish if I could see them once, right now. I hope they are alive. They will surprise me one day. Do you think cats have emotions? I see the gulmohar tree. Under which you had held my hand and promised... ...Promised to hold my hand, forever. Never. The gulmohar lives on. So do I and you, may be. All apart, distant, as three incidents who never met. Do you think trees have memories? I wish the gulmohar will die. I wonder why do I talk of pain, Of them who have left me, Of the kite orphaned in the vast sky, for paper boats that never return. All that is lost can always be found. I cry for all that remains but can't be mine,... ...For the memories of a moth Who dived into the fire one...

Beyond the horizon lies the gray that rests between your feet, delicately. Waves ripple and glide past the footsteps, Silently washing off your prints afar, Uncomplaining in tender reverence. You raise your arms as if to embrace the sea. I see twilight, I feel air gently hushing by. The crimson Sun is at its last breath And caresses you with quiet blessings. As your innocence reflects upon the gracing Sun and the soothing sea I stand mute and mesmerized... ... Oblivious of the rest as the triad touches me And I cry, just. SoUmY@ [p.s. -> This post of mine is inspired by the picture atop. I thank Jennifer for letting me share this. And this piece goes to Angel . ]

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@

I have peeled my skin With each of your blank verses. My poetry has gone through erosions, lost pages of memoirs, Un-remembrance and what else? Irreversibility never liked me. Nor did I. Blood has dripped, once, twice, May be more? I never had a scale to fathom what I lost. Nor did veins apologized, ever. Veins, oh they know when to let go of you As color red. You had a quotient of quality. I have put myself on either side of balancing machine, Have weighed myself with my emotions Perhaps the odd moments against my soul. Unperturbed you were, you are. A perfect imbalance I am. Just like this verse which pleads to be understood. I leave you with one question except me: Will you ever kill your shadow to be alone? Oh nights have the answer still. I will wait. I know you won't know for Dark never wronged black. SoUmY@

They say there are three seasons now. I differ. I say there is only one, greed. But we have remained the same. With ours and with mine With a mind selfishly claiming 'divine'. We have blamed and awaited a full moon. Have feared the scorching Sun, Back-stabbed the winter with a prayer of spring. Mocking this obstinacy, it has rained in winters, Clouds have shaded some summer noons, Autumn leaves have never denied the gravity. The rainbow we see bent with stripes across the horizon, Was straight until you & I realized that the earth is round. SoUmY@

A pen. A pen and a paper. A pen and a paper and a plot. A pen and a paper and a plot and a poet. A poet and a plot and a paper and a pen. A poet and a plot and a paper. A poet and a plot. A poet. A perfect palindrome? Starts and ends in uselessness. SoUmY@