Soumya Vilekar


Soumya Vilekar is a writer, blogger and a poet. Her poems are included in various anthologies which include a collection of inspirational, spiritual, motivational and romantic poems. Soumya gets her inspiration from nature where she cultivates her thoughts and forms the essence of the Divine in her milieu. She, currently, resides at Sharjah, UAE.

  W O R L D P E A C E

O ! thy waxed figurine,
How elegant is thine charm!
In eloquence you speak floral phrases.
Alas, beneath the beatified layer
Lies a cruel , barbaric heart!
When died thousands in ruined fields,
Sliced by calamities of
Unquenched thirst,
Gazing at grey skies,
For a few drops of water,
You abhorred the clouds and
The parched earth,
Trampled the soul of nameless peasants
Beneath the burden
Of mint and hoarded grains
Whose hands feed
The nation of hungry stomachs.

O Look! He laughs, mocks at the helplessness
Rocks his chair,
The chief of tyrants,
Chewing the paan in his sour mouth,
He gobbled the treasure
Of innocents
And slayed them.
The brilliant hues, now somber
As radiant sun sinks in the horizon
Snatching the light of lives,
When abducted a few girls
Exhibiting signs of barbarism. . .
Ignorant those meek ones,
Oblivious of the lurking signs,
O ! They get crumpled,
Their attires rumpled…
Where do they flee,
Which side and whereto ?
’Tis danger,
At every bend, in every mind,
Be it foe or a stranger.
Forgetting the human,
Hapless and the pitiable,
In leisure he sleeps,
Drinks in pleasure
While miles away,
A barbed wire severed
Millions die within minutes,
Shellings deafen the selfish ears
“Count the gains”, narrate rich nations
In powerful area
As everyone watches breakfast news ,
Amnesiac those,
Forget the savagery in few seconds.
In torn wraps of the cruel world,
Penniless, homeless
Screaming their hearts in desperate hunger.
They share with a dying dog the only morsel
Near their broken shelter.
Amidst the concrete and glass ensemble
Fears my soul in conjecture
Live here mortal souls,
Immortal they think
Is their embodied structure…
For power, fame & money, they fight
And kill each other...
Pity the humans,
Disgusting is their shroud
Which cannot cover
Even their transgression?
Oh ! Then,
Why O Majestic one!
What for I am here
On the blessed altar of earth
As a mortal, helpless kind?
A witness … merely.
Why , then ’tis called the
Precious gift?
A life full of miseries,
Sufferings endless,
Neither an end to sins…
Ya! Speaks everyone -- about world peace
From every nook and corner …
Where do thy think, shall we find it?
Beneath whose grave,
Whose memorial?
Fragments lying, of those shredded bits of Ataraxic
Reposes obscure
In which pit or tunnel
The vanished tranquil peace?


© Author

(Published in Kafla Intercontinental - Summer 2015)