Articles, creative-writing, Desire, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry, Writings

Burning Sabbaticals

It has been a long hiatus, I have migrated to a new city, joined a new workspace , made an entire library and workstation but I miss the soothing of the writing I used to have. This hiatus grows on me, every time I try to sleep in the night, I wonder how my words sleep, aching, bellowing in despair to be entangled in a original thought.

It’s difficult to say where to begin and why, I must excuse the exits and replenish this sight. For today although I am drowning in my bed in this darkness, from tomorrow I shall be burning this sabbatical. It’s time to pour, outpour and flood the thoughts, lets begin, shall we?

New Writing Desk In a New City.
Standard
Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry

Ellipsis

concatenated existence
today, tommorow,
the time unfurls :
measured by solitary light.

The cellular disruption of memory :
a dream devours a dream
a desire devolves :

                         wish
             need
want

Oh ! the ladder to abyss,
come, conjure the collusion :
fear in the mellow sunlight,
apprehension in a mother’s womb,
desire in a meaningless world.

Standard
beauty, Desire, erotica, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Heart, Life, Poems, Poetry, Work from Home, Writings

Felt

The unknown are felt,
With hands moving inside,
Feeling the black bra, while
your face turns red with joy of ecstacy.
Everything turns to water, your lips below
turn into a fountain of desire,
and your legs closing with wetness.
Waiting to be touched
Waiting to be consumed
Waiting to be felt

Shashank Bhardwaj

Standard
creative-writing, Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Dreamlands

Oh what a blessing it is to see you in the daylight,
Blue sky, green grass, and your skin, it glows,
I love the hot days where we stare the warmth, in our eyes.
I love the cool nights , where before we fall onto the beds, hoping to travel into the caressed dreamland

Ends decipher themselves,
As we trace the origins,
of us coming close,
and forgetting to waltz back
Into this slippery reality

Standard
coffee, Desire, dream, fiction and poetry, Life, Love

In coffee, we trust.

Image
beauty, Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

An Echo

Sound and Light aren’t different entirely,
nobody shall ever get used to distance.
I wait for your sound, without touching your face,
you become an echo, the reverberation: simply unbearing

I devour an apple, graciously,
of the orchards blooming softly,
extinguished they shall be,
for the valley of snow, bows to no heart.
our pulses prisoned to thoughts.

In a mountain somewhere where cold spares no one,
It’s all dew and despair,
the hands who pick these apples,
have read no verse for equality
it’s a serpent without colour, that teases
our thoughts to an unfulfilling macabre.

how soon we have evolved to non-existence,
of the dream of the fellow
on the cost of furlough of subsidiary resilience.

Standard