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.

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

The Exalted Pursuits

To define an exit,
is to summon a purpose,
I defined snow, without touching it.
It has never left me since.

In the dreams,
under the sky robbed of stars,
in this utter disturbance of existence.
I wished you never painted me as a mosaic,
as well as I do.

My hands coloring with hues of autumn, winter
and unkissed summer,
because to fail you shall be the end of my potrait.
the symmetry in love is astounding.

Thousand touches on those brown eyes still unfelt
shall yield their numbness:
an art before departure,
a history before invasion.
a cause without a purpose.

This winter ends today
the glass panes conjure a colorful silence :
yellow, a touch of comfort,
when it travels back,
this premonition of forgetfulness
shall shine on you.

Lay these eyelids on purpose, today, at least
What is to be lost? Than a fickle dream
and city made of failed purposes
with us as the lone survivors,
building cities as we forget,
what is like to be loved,
without words.

Fiction & Poetry, Love, Poems, Poetry

An Ode to Dream

I inch slowly,
into this dark stupor,
my eyelids adjust themselves
to foresee imaginatively,
remembrance is the only curse and boon.

An old mirror robbed of it’s colours
and reflection deciphers my drowsiness.
I collapse into a ocean of sheets, searching
for a wave of untouched comfort

In a place this silent, sleep is a mermaid with brown eyes, singing to me, slowly ,a venomous hymn, drowning me into an oblivion of nothingness till I forget to mumble verses to the lonely sky.

She is busy today.

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

A Tapestry’s Demise

a fragile palm cocoons itself,
this gaze, warm as a mellow summer,
slips over the papyrus:
paint me a rain, I murmur to the sky.
The ocean’s feet answer my toes.

With every dawn, my eyes learn
a resilience for forgetfulness.
With every dusk, my eyes forget
a resilience for memory.

I weave this tapestry, sealing the light.
I paint it with colors dry;
I frame it with a glass of unending silence.

But If a mirror possessed by unrequited love breaks,
Why does it sound like a thousand answers?

Shashank Bhardwaj

Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Answer

The answer to silence :
Is a breath of someone you remember

It seeps into yours lips,
It blossoms up your neck
Turns it into a tendril drowsed in rain.

It caresses the lungs, painting them
In hues or orange, red and shallow yellow.

Your toes move when you hear me.
Have you ever noticed?

A freckle gleams and shapes the arc of cheeks.
Its like the summer where you met me.
Its the summer , you shall never have again.

I became the monsoon, after that,
Turned you into a rainforest
Drop by drop.

Like it should always have been.
Always.

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

Touch

you are most beautiful
when you sleep–
when the coffee-toned notes of your skin
brew, a silent language

while your perfect lips are too tired to doubt my eyes
now, the dark mist of your breath
trickles down my neck
I wait,
I stare at you
unwaveringly.

outside there is a trail of rain,
and the wind
in the willow cage
whispers

as if it dares to tell
the moon and
all the listening night
that this silverlight should not
touch you, in front of me.

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

Think

As the day passes by,
I think about you less and less.

But your thought stays lingering
in my mind,
There is something about you
like the air just before the rain.

Somewhere in the back of my head,
your playful chuckle escapes to my heart.
A lightning brews in my eyes instantly.

that lets everyone around me know,
I finally thought of you again.

– SB

Writings to Heaven

Shashank Bhardwaj

Category Archives: Love