Soumili Karmakar

Meetings of the two, floating clouds filled with beautiful hues,
An inexpressible fear of bursting
What if someone said those three little words before I drew,
To the perennial world painted as skies in her favourite blues?
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Reading about the Oak trees, mountains, flowing essence of waterfalls, the scent of wet ferns, and the heart shaped leaves of Peepul.
Took my breath away.
And when I witnessed,
I was deeply inspired.
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Flowers all over the blue sky
Blooming in the fields of misty clouds
Painted by the hues of all you's and eyes full of stars.
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So here, our moon lights up in the night sky,
So here, our dreams arise in our beholding eyes,
And ears are willing to hear tales of our years,
Where we dreamt and lived and loved our dears.
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A refreshing winter evening,
With the sunset, on its crest.
The church with its evening prayers.
Relatively, the mass gathering.
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It was a cool winter breeze,
Snows were falling down to freeze.
A gravely concern of mine, 'what to call, whom to call.'
Ended up with my heart
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The colour of the sunbathing hills are living through ages before,
The ride from boughs to the sky is completed by little Siberian wings in rows.
Their tails and feathers embracing the breezes of wintry days
India, they named home
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Railway tracks are calling for bare feets to start their walks;
Wheels of innumerable trains wishing to continue their pending talks,
Stones framed in rectangles are keeping dewy grasses safe beneath,
Oh, how it amazes me to see them protecting their little beings!
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A heart is living through nights of falling stars,
A pair of eyes passing sleepless nights in golden hours;
Being awaken till dawn
Endorsed in coloring landscapes in the heart of her town.
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Verses of bugs are whispering in the dark
Silence of woods are cherishing tidal winds and fragrance of blue seas, as means of worshiping arts.
The tiny bud is praying for palms to heal,
Where farmers were working still.
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Windows below the cloudy heaven,
Vows of lingering leaves,
Greetings hidden behind brown eyes and Lilies breathing to live .
They say, " trust in your heart".
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Blessed palms of Eve nurturing the Tree of Knowledge,
Adam by her side working for the same,
Once fell from heaven but two souls living as one,
Little sprinkling of droplets on a thirsty planet till welcoming dawns.
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Is it unusual to root for the oceans and stars?
Is it what you, too, wish. When you look above the roof, beholding the moonlight pouring his ardent potions in bonds that never meant to fall apart?
Dear reader, the long lost logs remembers delightful mornings,
she came downhill with the sun beams dancing at the top.
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Summer has arrived in the city,
Ants are waking up and butterflies are being adored by my pretty.
In the sunlight yellow tulips and sunflowers were blooming,
I felt beams of the rejoicing sun, where celestial galaxies were immensely amusing.
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It was a day when the sun shone brighter than usual,
It was a day when brooks near valleys formed a sensation.
Echoing against the twittering of flying birds at dawn,
Who knew: who won and lost in loveless wars fighting among tolls?
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Toes being dipped in sweet-salty water,
The surf is modestly kissing all the waves,
Smoothness of jewellery ice is white beholding herself till spring,
Floating clouds silently tossing in happiness, where birds are circling in rings.
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Sands of time didn't perish when fingers squeezed a lime,
A glass full of water mingling with sprinkles to drink for a lifetime.
A marble fountain spreading its love,
Winds unlocking wings of my dove.
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All our Christmas wishes are heard,
Down across the blue oceans and to the hills all above.
Shells loving pearls sat near the seashore;
Holding sapphire rings behind
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Breezes of evergreen mountains carried words of eyes afar,
Dearly Sparrows in my tea garden were the first one to be seen in wars.
The pot half empty with water was their battlefield,
Who would first splash and sprinkle was the question on repeat.
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Oldest ever wines enriches with time
Fresh grapes in vineyards of my country carries your breaths in binding airs of mystery,
I will save them, even if someday our melodies of spring ends after counting stars.
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