Beneath the blue waters
lies a mermaid
singing songs and playing everyday
be it a fog or clear sky
one could hear her singing while passing by
she sings for the dead
for the people drowned
who now live in her house
sadly all alone
sometimes I wonder if it is true
do the dead cry
after dying too?
what if they smiled all the time?
made merry
and rang chimes
what is left for us to live then
Lets embrace the mermaid
and listen again.
© Shashank Bhardwaj.
There are days
when you just don’t want
to get up
embrace the sun
feed the dog
sometimes
you want to watch that
fan on the ceiling
and tell yourself
“whatever it is,
it would end someday”.
© Shashank Bhardwaj.
Glass panes,
view of skyline,
sun sinking in an aura of red,
jacket hanging on the chair,
feeling on top of the world,
but still trapped at the end of the day,
in the concrete jungle,
when one looks the street guitarist,
performing and smiling.
© Shashank Bhardwaj.
Don’t scribble your heartbreaks to me,
don’t show me your scars,
don’t cry over your failures to me
or to anyone around,
they would rob you of your emotions,
they would make fun,
the world looks more for misery than happiness in others
instead make friends with your demons,
build a rage that drives your life,
remember all the defeats every night
till your nightmares spark a never ending fire inside,
Burn bright
because there is too much darkness outside in this world
to bear.
© Shashank Bhardwaj.
I met my friend almost everyday,
he loved jumping and wagging his tail,
he played in mud,
went after butterflies,
slept without a care
and sometimes was lazy as fuck
He was honest
one can just see that by a look in his eyes
But one day I could not find him
and the day after another,
After a troubled week
I came to know of his death
For the first time ever I lost a happy friend
who took all the happiness for a while.
I still remember his jumping.
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I still remember the chilling wind,
when I stood without a jacket on,
having travelled a thousand miles,
to hear out something I never expected,
Even after 3 Years,
even the faintest memory,
give me chills in the warmest quilt.
“I can’t”, She said.
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Disgusted and Tired,
I wake up in my room
and watch men walking to their offices
like a group of penguins
I feel the air grew warm and sad for me
but not warmer than my quilt
I see the day bright
but some days you want to drink darkness
and have hangovers of past
of times when you were not having a penguin suit
but just a naked scarred soul which was afraid to live like so.
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Writings to Heaven 