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.
Category Archives: pain
Not Today
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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Blessed
Some watch the rich,
some watch the famous,
some the daring
and some watch people in love,
then they wish they were blessed,
as they were,
never do they see the world around,
the sun,the stars,
never do they see within,
the heart,the thirst,
never do they ask themselves,
Why?
there are no blessed souls,
just souls with their voice echoed and listened in the hearts,
souls which are alive
and have seen everything
which we failed to see.
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Death of a Soul
Scriptures have said it long ago,
sages believe it’s divinely right,
the body dies when it’s time,
but the soul never dies.
It wanders the deepest valleys,
It wanders the mountains wide,
It searches for solace everywhere,
like it’s only birthright,
After searches made across galaxies,
with no solace found,
It reaches the almighty one day,
with no pride and no sound.
The almighty asks all the souls
a single question every time,
Did you lived with the body?
Did the body ever found a peace of mind?
Soul said it didn’t live,
It was dying all the time,
Because the body never listened to the heart,but only to the mind.
a thousand dreams were unheard,
of the heart and soul,
one gave up with the body,
one now dies with nowhere to roam.
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Voice
Except from the “Rum Diary”.
She – Not going gloom on us ,are you? Sitting alone?
I – Apologies,nothing like that.
She – What is the book about you reading?
I – It’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner, was written by a junkie when he was 22, I am 24 now, I have been carrying a typewriter for past two years..I have written nothing.
She – Don’t say like that, you have written a few novels.
I – They have no voice.
“This conversation still gives me goosebumps.”
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Rage
flames burning
cities ruined
blood splattered
children wailing
helpless dying
all seen at once
on a canvas
of a painter
who once
survived
rage of nations.
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Writings to Heaven 