Category Archives: beauty

beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry

The Russian Parable

An area collapsing
into wise beards of giants,
Dostoevsky,Bunin,Tolstoy,Chekhov

Each, a decimation and integration
an oxymoronic existence,
mix life and death,
some unbearable winters,
some poverty
and tall glass of vodki,
you invent an utopia,
that is still alive in dusts
and pages.

a dream of winter, isn’t that easy:
Siberia is dying of touch of warmth
Petersburg is selling Vodki by it’s heartbeat.
Its still just old farms and innumerable counts.

Beautiful women still detested by beauty,
Brave men still abhorred by the truth,
Death still irritated by shallowness, we create,

I brisk past Moscow,
Kremlin is still the same,
my bones ache by the walk,
Never Invade Russia in winter?
One never remembers.

  • Shashank Bhardwaj
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beauty, creative-writing, dream, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Soliloquy’s Demise

My toes are always burdened,
the mirage of my own existence
hides with way I walk.

No, bright sun or cool breezes,
warm flames or chilling silences
can refill my chalice of purpose.

I have to keep drinking myself
till I am empty enough to flow,

There is no taste for longing,
Its just a weather my tongue never forgets.

We are all pieces of unfinished monologues,
laughing miserably with a blindfold,
remembering a perfect sleep.

– Shashank Bhardwaj

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beauty, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Dissonance

Revere, this blessed silence,

For I shall slip into your thoughts

once again, but this time,

without a face or voice.

Contemplate the cause,

For every bone

tickles a question

when the sky is this dark,

‘A pang of heart’ was a fool’s discovery,

For he ignores every vision that might be real,

For him the water is still full of air,

and the air still full of hope.

Before the drowning begins with his foolish steps, the dissonance muffles down slowly, choking the sweet breath, as promised

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beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Convalescence

An unsettling deciphers

a state of silence :

When every mirror sells illusion,

How can you trust a pair of dreamy eyes?

A stoic whimper,

A mist that smells like the sun,

A kiss that compels of it’s origin,

Carry all of them till the day of reckoning.

You never know, when you shall be healed,

A rebirth is just a meaningless smile away.

Isn’t it?

SB

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beauty, creative-writing, Death, Desire, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Heart, Life, Poems, Poetry

An Ode to Dying Winter

What is this heart?
if not a emotion driven by a flood of questions?
I lay shirtless in an unknown darkness,
Somebody robbed me of a known darkness,

Every nerve has a memory
Hence, I have no words to describe winter,
It reminds me of months of change,
It now reminds me to assess of the change.

There are no pomegranates or apples in my gardens,
It is just the ice soaked grass,
my toes hurt when I trespass my property.
For what?
I cannot change the end of winter,
If Winter was here, can Spring be far behind?

Nobody should ever listen to the aches of comfort,
of a winter of campfire and whiskey
You get used to it slowly,
Now the bottles are empty,
Some broken,
Some lost.

I wait in the edge of a land of disappearing snow,
thinking was it all worth it?
Yes it was.
Somebody tell my heart once again.This.
Please.

– SB

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beauty, Fiction & Poetry, Love, Poems, Poetry

A Fixation

An orange bliss breaks billowing :
the blue evening, passing out,
choked by warm hands colored in flames.

Witness the sky
tying this blue brightness consensually,
behind it’s cloud back.
Sea dipped fingers feeling the warmth closing in,
as flames tease the air around, with uneven breaths.
Maybe this is how, It rains in winter.

a little skewness, such as this,
shames the clear ponds
and the monuments still glistening
with untouched marble
bearing the tasteful reflection.

But I sit aghast,
and perplexed over such a fixation.
The nights shall be a little difficult :
dreaming of soft ropes,
of slowly kissing the haunting eyes.

– Shashank Bhardwaj

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beauty, creative-writing, Death, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

A Winter with no Light

White : a color of absence
a touch of nothingness,
swallows a village overnight.
The remains are prayers
and candle lights.

Preserve your warmth,
learn your exits where your body learns to regret.
A temple of belief, desolated tonight.
A sky sucked out of light, kiss of fire stolen tonight.

Seek my lips
Numb my pain with the whitest touch.
Close my eyes and listen to my hymns.
Give it a form : turn it into a music, a Carol.
My heart bleeds again and again.
Turn it into poetry tonight.
Make a tongue a poet tonight.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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