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.

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

Memory

364

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.

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

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

Walking through the Mirror

It happens sometimes
between winter and the sultry summer,
my words and visions refuse to mate,
no amount of alcohol urges them
to this universal transfixion
on a piece of a patient paper

I have no choice left,
I visit the dusted mirror
in my inhospitable washroom again
the vortex of time swallows me inherently,
as I fall through the voiceless oceans
and painstaking cheap bars
that are out of beer.

I walk through the autumnal rains
where the birds have learned to hide
and the leaves refuse to be touched.
The maidens are no longer beautiful,
Houses full of Japanese crockery
and European paintings
are half submerged in filthy ponds
to be admired by filthy fishes
with filthy brains.

The kids are running and laughing
on the roads but I can’t see their faces.
The dogs no longer bark, but they have
tears of joy and my hands have forgotten to
pet these loyal creatures. Their tails don’t wag now.
They refuse to acknowledge my existence.

I see my twin somewhere.
The only one who smiles back at me.
Contented but not happy,
his eyes are his stories,
his soft hands; devoid of typing
are his unwritten poems.
I have to kill him.

Before he swims out of this vortex.
Before he swims into me.
Before he falls in love with himself.

AnatomyofaPlaneCrash

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

Anatomy

beauty, Desire, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Love, Poems, poetry

Tease

Your fingers map my body,
The neck turns into a calloused valley.
The breasts are the warm deserts now.
This waist is a barren wasteland, dying of thirst.

Between my legs
flows a river unseen,
a forest untouched, by fingers.
A paradise lost in time.

Transverse this map tonight,
make it rain, just conjure a flood
all over my body.

the flavours of the paradise await you, come, seek a taste of forgotten heavens.

I don’t care now,
I can’t wait now,

Teach me this cartography, Just don’t ask why.

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

Lost in Translation

550087631

My myopic eyes
in the whitewashed veins
dissolved a Solar Eclipse once,
sprinkled slowly in the transparent ponds
of vision, through a negative film of ours.

Call it now, The fate’s cruel jape.
A sky long-awaited
and devoid of sunlight
is forgotten forever.

I do remember though, the universe we created
in silence, while we lent our voices
to an air that couldn’t speak.

The negative is now a mere vicissitude of colors,
for a time that went lost in translation.

– Shashank Bhardwaj

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.

Writings to Heaven

Shashank Bhardwaj

Tag Archives: Fiction & Poetry