Category Archives: Writings

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

Write – Rant

With sometimes eyes closed
and sometimes open,
you see the unseen
and unsee the seen.

Your words lie somewhere in between
the voices you cannot condemn openly
and the voices that push you away
from getting soaked up from this sunlight of reality.

You are divided between writing something truly honest
and writing something that masks the truth
so perfectly, it becomes a voiceless waterfall falling
over these incumbent eardrums of the readers.

You hold the might to culture a society
and rationalize its view, shielding it from
the tranny, oppression and unequal treatment.

So next time when you look in the mirror,
remember you are a needle lost in the grass,
you can either sew the ground to cover up
whatever is wrong,
or you can stab others to let them find out themselves.

 

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

Dissolve

Daytona Beach Day 1

The sky is a sleeping sea; blessed
with more hues than blue.
I wrote to the unseen wave
that carried the scent of your hair,
washed in rose water, to diffuse slowly and subtly
in this sea of your living memory.
Many poems disappeared since then
eloping with the memories of yours
carried away by these voiceless waves.

The Balcony used to honeysuckles
that bloomed in late-spring, the salt-laden air,
and the noise of impatient seagulls is now
a desolated and unfinished memoir of our time.
I have lost the count of the number of times
my syllables rearrange in these crimson evenings
to whisper your name.
It’s an unending charade to dwell in the past.
but no options satisfy my desire to smell joy
and laughter one last time.

If I could walk into my past tonight,
by drowning myself in a storm near the shore
till my present just wears off somehow.
I would, for you.
Even a thousand times over.

 

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Hues of Horror.

dark_waves_by_13yurithelily13

The tepid air slowly sheds
its orange hue; collected throughout
the year while caressing the lips of the sunlight.
Half past dawn, it refurbishes its desire from
the warm currents of a sea, I never loved.

It haunts me still, the taste of salt,
that lingers over my coward tongue.
That is how I have learned,
to be a man of few words.

winds, salted and warmed
still, lick my neck as a mistress without eyes
as I sleep naked; sweating profusely, dream after dream.
This taste of darkness, I do not recognize anymore.
It is my shadow perhaps, clasping his
hands over my eyes, drying my throat.

A whirlwind has drowned my words
into an abyss of untasteful rust.
My shadow laughs voicelessly
in a room full of mirrors
as I seek him with my eyes closed.

It is just the beginning,
red hues of light disappear
The waves now are not beautiful.
They never were.
Do not bury me in the ocean.
Please.
I will never make it to the shore.
I somehow know.

 

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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Lascar

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

I Told You

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

A shadow that hides.

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I am sloshed,
barely walking,
This warm air makes me dizzy,
“A-12″,”A-12”, I keep repeating
to avoid being the uninvited drunk poet
in the wrong hall.

It is time
I settle down on a chair
four rows are empty in front of me.
I curse the whirlings
and the whooshes
and the random fucking noises
in my head:
The Bubbly(Beer) shall drown all of you tonight.
Just wait.
I am death, I shall show you.

They announce, the best five poems.
I do not remember anything after that.
The Beer certainly helped.

An abnormal life
turned to 5 repeated deaths sentences.
I hold a friendly grin and
leap onto the burning ground.

I lit a cigarette
and think of reading
more of Celine.
My shadow hides a little more today,
I can’t blame him.

That crazy French doctor who wrote sometimes
was right:

“The Beginning of Genius
is being scared shitless”

Is the Bar still open? , I think.

Damn! I again forgot to ask,
When to submit next.

– Shashank Bhardwaj

 

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

Half a Bottle of Whiskey

Let me douse a fire
that dissolves in water
by mixing it with my blood
in small sips of uncontrollable desire.

The insides shall burn, I know,
I have been there
as the brain blazes up slowly
in the incipient flames inducing
a stupor of warming numbness.

Is this how you erase memories?
Is this is how you conjure them?

The valiant bout
of drunken madness ends
as now the red-blooded eyes
seek the cold white embrace
of A Moon, hidden in clouds.

Chalices have grown cold.
Snow fondles the dark greenery outside
in a cold choking blanket of doom
that leaves behind a lullaby of silence.

The jeweled decanter
whispers to me
at the dead of the night,
as the fire, it holds
now craves for the decaying fire
within me.

I am not myself now,
I am a shadow used to the
bodily actions of a decaying body.
I am submissive and weak tonight
to this body that dances in the fire,

Incomplete scribbles still remain desolated
praying for a bloom
in the wake of the terrible hangover.
to be remembered somehow.
Someday.

Is this how you become a poet?
Is this how you forget poetry?

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Gods – Paradoxical Poetry

Gods are few,
Some say only two,
Some prefer counting one,
Some abhor openly; claiming none.

Some believe it’s a he.
Some pray to it as she.
Some sacrifice blood in thy name,
Some crucify with immoral pain.

Some live and die, without seeing you.
Some fool the generations; claiming to be you.
Some meditate for years, finding you.
But the wise know, you are just an unheard story.
Neither False nor True.

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