Category Archives: Poetry

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Work from Home, Writings

Moonlight

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

while your lips are too tired to doubt my eyes
the dark mist of your breath trickles down my neck
I wait, staring unwaveringly.

outside there is a trail of rain,
drop by drop , this wind whispers
from the willow’s cage.

moonlight traverses the silence between us
every pause is sedimentary,

the longest distance between us tonight
is a raging river, its depth
a soft silver sea.

come : dissolve, disappear, dissociate,
a distance is only a measure,
when eyes can see.

when we submit ourselves
to absence of light :
these voices become unending images.

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clouds, creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, poetry, Work from Home, Writings

Reverie

the moss by the window grows up
presumptuous contentment ferments itself.
This air is magically much lighter today
I remember this forgotten dream
where each rain drop
becomes a spiraling sigh of someone I knew.

Searching for my heart,
I scramble in linen white bedsheets,
my eyes rummage the room for a mirror
for this face must be a void :
an artist’s regretful hallucination
a dreamer’s revered loss.

We smile the best,
when the mind’s eye forgets the face.

I should settle for a second slumber
to grin like a Cheshire cat,
the sky turns murderous grey
a lovely occasion? Isn’t it?

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

Breeze

What’s the opposite of an echo?
Lay your head on my chest,
Under this waxy paper moon and
Tell me what stories hide
In the constillations of your freckles.

Let my fingertips trace over
The epics in the old soul.
Some spines are cracked,
And pages torn– but you,
You always remember
Which are my favorites.

“Have we done this before?”
“Tracing ourselves in one another?”
“Yes”, you say
and that mellow smile of yours brews
a breeze smelling of thousand dreams,
I collapse into them. Slowly, again.

Shashank Bhardwaj

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creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts, Writings

Conundrum of Choices

To eclipse a past
Is to brace a free fall,
You have your toes ready
for the descent,
But your skin has a bolt of lightning
Teasing the tense tissues.

Who shall remember you?
A corpse about to turn to uneven bacon,
You had a heart of fire.
Now it is dilapidated smoked ruin.
Was it worth it?

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creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings

Dream of you

Listen to me as one listens to the rain,
not attentive, not distracted,
light footsteps, thin drizzle,
water that is air, air that is time,
The day is still leaving
the night has yet to arrive,
figurations of mist
at the turn of the corner,
figurations of time
at the bend in this pause,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
without listening, hear what I say
with eyes open inward, asleep
with all five senses awake,
it’s raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables.

air and water, words with no weight:
what we are and are,
the days and years, this moment,
weightless time and heavy sorrow,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
wet asphalt is shining,
steam rises and walks away,
night unfolds and looks at me,
you are you and your body of steam,
you and your face of night,
you and your hair, unhurried lightning,
you cross the street and enter my forehead,
footsteps of water across my eyes,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,

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creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Poems, Poetry, Writings

Winter Oranges

You sit in the garden
swinging to and fro,
a shining sun
brilliant yellow with warmth
brightly painted oranges in your hand
or are they tangerines?
I do not know
for I was not invited
to this winter feast.

You sit with the others,
peals of laughter,
seeds of conversations
leak into my room somehow.
The pulp of the oranges
dripping from your lips
as you discard the peels
dulled by time
turning bitter and dry.

Let them fall to the dirty ground
uncared for and
unnecessary.
I forget their existence, the sun
and the warmth.

I remember us,
the pulp stained lips
and a thirst for never missing such feasts,
where your eyes inch this close to me.
where the breath turns citrus in unison.

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