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 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.

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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, Heart, Life, Poems, poetry, Writings

Light

And who do you become?
by swallowing a light deciphered
through a stained glass,
For its crystals are lattices of memory,
that have caressed your ghostly voiceless passages.
It breaks in an afternoon, you never noticed ,
The memory vaporizes
and before you know, it smells as if
someone remembers you in a time you forgot.

Do you become a ghost, savoured by unfiltered light, blinded to the earth by a touch that warms?
Is this how they mix, fear and nostalgia
to a heart that is child to its own and aloof of its lineage?

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

Trespassing within myself

delusion-dorina-costras

It begins with
a melodious blur
as a taste of forgetfulness slithers
over my humble skin.

A yearning evolves slowly,
to disappear away
from this meaningless pursuit of flesh,
we are trapped by our existence
and nothing else.

I trespass within myself,
in search of a purpose,
in the hidden sanctums of my delusion,
where blues waves greet my feet,
and the sky made of ice
howls with terrible winds, at my timidity.

It never rains,
But I always forget to stride aimlessly,
these hungry eyes are served
with sumptuous visions,
and till my hands bleed
this hallucination copulates
with my reality.
I finally learn to float
within myself.

I pen all of it down,
in the night
and call them as Art
in the morning.


© Shashank Bhardwaj

Art Credits – Delusion by Dorina Costras

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

An Artist Escapes

butterfly

He lives through his sketches,
surviving on frugal meals
mostly bread and wine.

Night and Day,
are melancholic mirrors.

he keeps trespassing between them
ignoring the sense of time
creating a vortex of imaginary visions.

Countless Albino Butterflies,
bathe in his color palette.

color-soaked wings
now seek the blank canvas,

the kamikaze of hues is imminent,
for the art to strive
and the artist to escape,
the meddling reality

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dream, fiction and poetry, Heart, kids, Love, Poems, poetry, Prose

Burden

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