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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beauty, creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

A low voice and a blanket of memories

The stars become cold,
It rained last night.
The shiver kills every beauty:
Stay, do not move,
do not use your hair.
You are a symmetry now,
I am a blindfolded architect,
Let me trace your heart tonight.

My blanket has dreamed more than me,
It sees an ocean of blue at times,
to drown itself, at least once:
Warm bodies are always vulnerable,
They leave you at the sign of cold.
Or when the inhabitants are warm enough.
All relationships are paradoxical,
Just fail once, you will learn.

The skies cry for the seas.
The waves tremble to mate the sky.
The horizon is a red illusion.
We shall meet and not meet.
We shall dream and not.

Tell me, label us once as something?
or not?

Because once you label us,
we will disappear,
into things we can’t control.
Free fall into me.
Once.

You won’t regret it.

 
Promise?

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

To remember a smile

It’s just a piece of skin
aching for a laughter
In a world that makes desolation
And calls it peace.

A thousand fireworks
look like lights without laughter
With your memories without laughter
My ears become a temple begging for a worship

Smile now,
For someone
For me.
Don’t let my temple disappear in a map of this world undiscovered.

Worship my eyes instead.
They smile without dreams.
Without reasons
Without fear.
Come tell me, do your eyes seek me
Am I your Christmas?

When the world desolates you away from me.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

The Swan with Brown eyes.

She doesn’t float,
but the water and the world around her move
to justify her movements.

I observe bleakly, like a child observing snow.
Those brown eyes, the red beak.
of how could it exist:
In a timeline,In our timelines,
We briefly intersect each other’s life
and now she is inside my head with those eyes.

The nights turn to days,
the days turn to sentences.
I greet her everyday.
She becomes a prayer for an atheist.
A Song for the voiceless.
A Dance for crippled.

Would she be thinking same?
as I observe her even now?
Why?
Why not?

Is this a swan song?
Let her answer all.
Let her answer none.
The eyes speak for those who have learn to observe.
Let me observe.

SB

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