Skip to main content

Hemostasis

Hopes are white
Nights! I know them black.

I met a man the other day
He sees but never observes.
What is the difference between two lives
When at the end you see black
and the other observes death?
Is the pain any less and certain?

I love to see kites flying
Do they mean independence?
You fly high with your greed strung...
A rooted flight,
How much can you pay for such freedom?

I know I talk gibberish,
I have grown old now.
I see white and black
In stripes of unknown dimensions.

But you?

You have an irreparable wound of shallowness.
I see your blood and that is not blue
Will it ever coagulate? You fear, I laugh.

You can never know how porous you are;
I know.
I saw your soul walking down the street that day.

You were too busy selling your dreams.

SoUmY@


[p.s. -> hemostasis is the cessation of blood loss from a damaged vessel. Coagulation is its defense mechanism

docs, pardon me for if I am wrong]

Comments

Usha Pisharody said…
I am fascinated!!! Beyond words, by the imagery you weave, the profundity you express through them, and the way you tug at the conscience through these lines :

You can never know how porous you are;
I know.
I saw your soul walking down the street that day.

You were too busy selling your dreams.


The contrasts drawn, and the comparisons made.. greed strung on that line, a rooted flight!! Oh my, you use words as if you would a dagger!!! Sculpted finely, I'd say!!

And most of all??

Glad, simply glad that you're posting again!!!!!!!!!!!! *Smiling smiling smiling* Cant stop... :) :) :)...
Sashu... said…
You can never know how porous you are;
I know.
I saw your soul walking down the street that day.

You were too busy selling your dreams.


brilliance! un-eclipsed brilliance, indeed!!!

period.
Cinderella said…
I completely agree with Sashu up there !!!!
Uneclipsed brilliance !!!!!!
Praveen said…
"I saw your soul walking down the street that day.

You were too busy selling your dreams."

-2 of the best lines that I read in recent times...It coveys more than the rest of the poem..gr8 work thr
Mahita said…
“He sees but never observes” – shows the intricacy of your thoughts. I am pleased to come across this blog and liked it a lot, will be a regular reader and hope to read more of your stunning posts. :)

“You have an irreparable wound of shallowness.” - :), very deftly written and profound too…
Cannot dissect every line, for the whole is much more beautiful. All I can say is that the thought is beautiful and your magic with words, is well, magic. Strong, bold and daring!
Usha Pisharody said…
You have been tagged, Soumya :)

When, and if you can.. :)

http://rambleononon.blogspot.com/2008/11/corridors-of-time.html
Usha Pisharody said…
Ummm... Congratulations! The Trophy looks good here.. :)

And, I see your readership is growing too.. all the more the pleasure is when I visit here :)
Suresh Kumar said…
Observing helps you to get a better insight into things even if it might be death and even if it is in the final stages. It is never too late to learn.

Good poem with some style.
Madeeha said…
This is an amazing piece Soumya. I am at a loss for words...

For the soul to pour out of a porous body to walk, alone, down the street...


And so many many thoughts in a single poem:

"When at the end you see black
and the other observes death?
Is the pain any less and certain?"

Is it indeed?

Popular posts from this blog

Untitled

You travel - Through unknown stations, passing empty paddy fields. over quiet rivers that rest beneath you. You bring a lot of earth along, And smell of mud, fish scales and trains.  You whisper and scream, Put your nails in me, occasionally call it love. Other nights, we make peace. Strangely at dawn, When the Sun rises and you see me sleeping,  I hear your whisper,  you travel ...   ... Deep inside me.

Together

I sit here to write An epic of love But words don't pay heed To my flowing senses. But what I write is about you. Who held the rain at her footsteps, Who could love the way Gothics shy And who can heal my scars Like I never had. And what I write is about me. Who drenched in the rain Like the raindrops, Who was loved the way He dreamt never. And who cried in the happiness beyond. So if ever the rain stops I would stand near you. If ever the scars anew I would feel your healing touch. If ever I don't sleep I would breathe you to sanity. On that rain soaked sands of Seashore And above the presence of lonesome moon, You would murmur the gentle song That I would echo in silence. And would pray, Somewhere,tiptoeing my wishes Dreams will rush up To another moment of blissful song offerings... SoUmY@

Untitled

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@