Category Archives: Writings
In Warmth
With your laced clothing,
you resplend an aura
that smells of lust and raging whiskey,
the ice fed hands trace your fragile
and sensitive breasts, as you unhook your bra.
With my warm tongue, I lick the chocolate over your pointed nipples.
You caress your fingers with the water between your legs.
I tear away your black panties,
and I am sure you wished for the sooner of it.
I come inside you, inside us
as we tremble as terrified horses
riding in the storm, embracing and feasting
on one another.
Your hips turn warm,
The legs go tired,
we climax in each other arms
and wait to begin again,
in the sunlight, we escaped from.
Swim Away – I
I still remember
the way you swam away,
wriggling out of your clothes,
I could see your wet breasts,
with the tips still drowned in drops.
You took my hand between your legs,
and whispered me to begin my art
of dissolving your shyness into thousand
moans of madness.
The tips turned dry, begging me to lick their
shame of existence away.
I worked through them, I worked below you too.
I sculpted a river of ecstacy within you,
and you went through all, by letting our tongues
mute our lives for sometimes.
The silence, we could still hear.
The silence, we can never forget.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
The Shadows of War
I bait the lights
to recluse into darkness,
as I step again into a past
made of voiceless shadows.
If I look closely,
the shadows conjure images:
of a ruined city and orphaned children.
If I smell closely:
it all smells of gunpowder,
dried blood and unending screams.
and if I move closer:
I am in again in the war itself,
they never really end,
their shadows never disappear.
I have learned to live with them,
and they follow me,
wherever I go.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Measure
a thirst,
is the dryness that floats from the throat
is the snow that burns everything
is the fire without a crackling voice
is the river polluted with a meaningless existence
is the reality drinking bottles of dreams
is the death despised deeply
is the shadow unloved
is a blessing and a curse.
is the human, too much loved.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
A Dream of Laughing Fishes
I think I am back again
somewhere beneath a cold restless wave
where the smell of a forgotten regret lingers.
A thousand eyes map my dread
and serve it back to my face
with a voiceless discontent.
I swirl like a newborn,
till I forget the smell of the skies.
An embellishment for the stars
seeing me slip into an oblivion.
“One’s misery is a supper of pleasure for another”
my demented grandma used to blurt.
She loved eating fish
and now the fishes are laughing,
the limb-lacking unbearable slimy creatures,
are choked with laughter, over my unending dread.
“Kill a fish yourself, let its blood cleanse
your dreams.”
said the friendly psychiatrist.
the crazy fucker didn’t even know,
that it all began from there,
from those very struggling eyes
near to the gills.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
In the Rain.
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
Writings to Heaven 