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

The Girl with the Ouija Board

Dark sinister whisperings
rouse my soul up,
‘Every Tongue has a demon
buried within its veins, for
it gives birth to thirst,
lust and blood.’
She told me before sleeping,

Archaic hymns, butchered lemons
drowned in vinegar, disappeared behind
a mist of lavender smelling candles,
apexed at pentagram made of saffron

I feel her curves turn cold,
the lips turn ominously black,
‘Eyes are windows to this world,
darkness is the passage to all other’
she keeps murmuring,holding my hand
till it is not she anymore.

I could sense it the way my hands are touched,
the way she removes her clothes then
and the way she kisses.
She never told her of her fetishes
and now I can’t even ask.

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

Lie

The hair is all spiraled up and soft
with the ends loose,
Burned of a fire black, but still
exists as the creamy mass of delicacy.
Your smile is a carved wet symphony
A sound in silence, with eyelashes the color of offsprings of dark.
The skin bloom of a pink becomes your second skin,over the fair white,
Sculpting your body, caressing and holding
Your bosoms and curves firmly in a strap of color known
Every curve traced melodiously,
The smile can make anyone forget the touch of all soft curves below the neck and beyond.
But I am a poet, not like the rest of them,
I would go down below, to live all
with my same bare hands with which i write.
Because they have never learned to lie.

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

Taste of Dawn

The night melts away,
My skin is still stained with its dark remains,

Bring me the curtain of a window,
where I learned to stop waiting

It could cleanse my dreams
that still make love to my lips.

The dawn breathes into me
With light and nothingness.

A thousand zephyrs on the way
To a bright asylum, their exodus is a soundless whimper.

It tastes like burnt omelettes on a hungry stomach
The daffodils don’t help either.

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

Actions

Every drift
Is a cartilage bearing
the sins of a unbearable capillary

The sentences of no remorse
comes in forms.

A wild stag robbed of its skin,
over a snow that even melts eyeballs,
tells me of a impatient mind.

Broken chateau glasses in season of fall
with no stains of warm blood over floor,
tells of wrath, that puked out of a heart dying of collapsing walls of insecurity

A man observing both, in vortex of time
Is stuck as a blob of ice feeling,
not knowing when to melt and when to burn.
A peace he cannot drink or spit
But bear with his actions.

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

Forever

To write about you,
Is it to dream about a song.

The humming of your voice
Is a symphony sometimes.

Do you see my heart dancing
In all the flames you set within me?

Do you feel the warmth that sinks
Within me, as the echo of your voice

Slithers into my soul.
If you are the music,

Then teach me to dance,
Alone, unapologetically, forever.

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

All Life

I could help you out,
by an unhook, a tweeny move,
But who shall hold your wings then,
When the bra falls of the grounds
and the breasts turn to voluptuous beasts of touch.
The arch of the back shall intensify the visions
For a sword out of a sheath shines and tastes the brightest.
I could taste em, the edges of your sword made collarbone,
Promise you shall read my work for lifetime,
If i lost my tongue caressing your body

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

Tempation

The hair is tied and fixed,
its an abyss spread by your tips,
Its a veil that dropped
over your neck and the shoulders,
One could trace the curves of neck
And the collarbone with bare eyes,
with a hope of a dream though.
The lips are poignant and colorless,
That tempts the tongue to unthinkable pursuits,
The curve slips off like a fine bottle of sun kissed glass.
The bosoms and waist are sculpted of desires
draped in black
An ice cube would melt and jump off the way
Of your curves, kindled by your warmth.
Just think, what it would to my words,
When they touch your lips.
Brewing temptation in my ink.

Writings to Heaven

Shashank Bhardwaj

Category Archives: Love