beauty, Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry


If all the beauty in the world
ceases to exist someday,
You would still be the unwritten poem for me,
The one I could never finish.

For I fear, that if I do so,
You would be lost forever in this world,
in the unseen books and the untouched pages
and in the hands of all those admirers,
whose fingertips have forgotten,
the art of patience.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

beauty, creative-writing, Desire, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Poems, poetry

Portrait Poetry – II

Black mass of surreal beauty
all tied and convolved.
I still remember the smell of your hair,
For it traced me to all the paths you took me over your body.
The eyes of temptation do haunt me still,
Like a storm unasked, you blew my thoughts away from your red wet lips,
I could have traced the neck and the sculpted collarbone
caressing all the way to the breasts and sumptuous waist,
drowning in the desirous touch.
But only if you let me.
Should I?
Look into my eyes and answer.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Trespassing within myself


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

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



The Night’s palanquin sways
encumbered by the stars bathed
in jasmine water and moonlight

A breeze blows through the pond,
the ripples slowly undulate my thoughts,
A shadow of time keeps disappearing
into my garden of memories tonight.

Who are you?
Whom I do not recall,
Even with these eyes drowned in wine.
Even with a thousand dreams, every night.

Are you a sorrow, longed and forgotten?
When happiness rained all over my city
and I became an ocean that night.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

Music has been a source of inspiration for my writing, always. The below song tempted me to write this. Listen when free.




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


The Mirrors and the Reflections,
this fresh breeze and the sunlight,
these inanimate realities
and their oxymoronic existence
amazes the child within me.

I am not a painter,
I am just a man
with a taste for colors.

I delve into them,
till the hues whisper words
that fly like butterflies.

I am not a lepidopterist(butterfly scientist)
I am just a man
with a thirst for writing.

I collect and nurture them,
till they look like a beautiful painting
made out of unseen words.

I am not a poet,
I am just a man,
with a love for beauty.

I just let the beauty flow,
like the never-ending seas
for purposes unknown.

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

Poetic Illusion

Lightness descends
in my head

as a brief vision of yours
reincarnate within me

you were not just a beauty
last night,
you were a poetic illusion

an art made of small verses,
brewing sinful temptations

and I read you very slowly
like one of my own written creations.

for I have been a starving reader
all my life

and you were finally
an end to my starvation.