Category Archives: Love

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

In the Rain.

Rain_new

Have I told you lately?
Of how I trace your scent
every time it rains violently.

This very ground trembles today,
nonchalant to our unending sighs.
We were the two inescapable shadows,
now we drift away from each other
into an incomprehensible darkness.

On this edge of dissolution,
a mere push of time,
dissolves us as intangible memories.
This air, drenched in regret
wraps us in a blanket of past,
to let us abandon our beginnings,
as a feast for this immoral rain.

Our hands caress the untouched remains.
We forget the skies and the cold water
trickling down our backs.
In a blink, we finally become
the smell of the earth,
after the rain, that is always full of love,
but no one knows why.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Colors of Unspeakable Love

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Last night, I sojourned in the warm fields
of cherry blossom, letting my silence convolve
with the voiceless dreams.

I cried in a language, I never heard.
In the memory of my voice, absconding
for quite a few days. Leaving only regretful notes,
of unending sabbaticals.

Nature never speaks, I observed.
It just pours a volume of voices from its belly,
into a pot full of colors, to melt and coalesce eventually,
for our eyes to fathom in silence.

So the next time, we lie on the bed,
don’t speak, just observe all of my colors
as I trace the aching fan above, dying out slowly,
similarly.

Whisper to me then slowly, if you wish.
of how does the grey mix in the volumes of smiles bright?
and yet is not loud enough, for us to tremble and dissolve
in one another, painting our silence
into an unspeakable color of love.

 

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Waves

So tell me
just through your eyes
how was it?
when I conjured a wave
in your flesh through touch

When my hands yearned
to be honey to float over your breasts
tracing your nipples, delving your waist,
evaporating away from a meaningless existence
Did you drown the way you should?
When I was inside you,
and we were birds flying in a sky made of fire
with wings melting away like butter.

Can you tell me,
through just your eyes?
through just your touch?
through just us?

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

Glass

My words were glass
for 14 days.

they shattered over papers
and metallic typewriters,
even on those,
warm as sun-bathed honey.

I somehow learned to arrange
the broken brights.

Let me know, if you can
see yourself in them.

 

© Shashank Bhardwaj

Back from the first long writer’s break, was totally buried in work. It’s time to be back to writing again. 🙂

 

 

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dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings

My Nightmares taste like Dirt.

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Fear flows sometimes
and spurts on some days
out from the warm orifices
in the sleep-deprived sweat glands.

A thirst ridden tongue
has a memory of its own.
It dreams of the dirt
and the sweet hymns of an unending rain.

The flag still hangs on my wall
but they keep washing out blood from it.

My hands are tired of holding the bodies I cannot touch.
Another celestial rotation, a swirl of nothingness :

They have made me a man full of unwritten elegies,
who stares into the abyss rhyming a voiceless song of grief.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Should I still float?

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For the past seven days
I have been floating in the carcass of this boat
dancing to the tunes of mediocrity.
My daisies are now dead.
Their aching souls have found solace
in the howlings of the shameless winds.

It’s so easy to disappear once you are out of words.
You become a shadow with a taste for silence.

The lack-lustered azure shows no remorse
for this land without a song.
It cannot weep tonight,
for the madness in its belly
while groping the breasts
of colorless clouds
has been ejaculated long ago.

I conjure the ripples
over a lifeless lake.
This is one of the last daisies, I found.
A few more hours into this rummage,
and I shall decapitate my existence
with a thirst for words
still lingering over my voiceless tongue.
Feed’em to the hungry dogs.
Call it Poetic Justice.


© Shashank Bhardwaj

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