dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, poetry, Writings

Flowers on Fire

The subways are empty
at the dead of the night.
Their exits recoil themselves
in the ashes of the ashes.

I whiff a pure smoke of a forgotten memory
and let it breed within my substructured brain.

A graveyard of cigarettes greets my shoes.
The lights go hazy as the winds turn warmer.
Another dull night has been devoured today,
with the help of a fifth of liquid courage.

Darkness needs darkness.
Its an immortal curse,
an undying thirst.
It travels with an agonizing silence
from the corpse of an empty bottle
to my eyes, staring an abyss

I wanted to curse everyone
with my eyes, while slitting their throats
by my tongue.

But I reach home dejected
whirling myself into an abyss
of nothingness.

I try the usual grind,
to type something beautiful,
but the words have escaped my prison ago.
I need a new remorse, to vomit a new grief.

So I set the whole garden on fire
and wait.

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Fiction & Poetry, Life, Poems, poetry

One Love Poem

I feel, I am out of love poems,
they have trespassed my diary as if,
someone blamed the toes of humanity
for it’s biased existence.

This earth, when it traces my toes.
finds a flood of remembrance.
the souls it walked with,
still brewing and adamant.
the nectar : my heart is now a mirror
the statis shall last it’s demise.
We are the last two birds,

Tell me, how to forgive a feather
for betrayal of flight.

To extinguish a love: A Manual.
Many people tried to write it,
in the rains of acceptance.
Ruins from Nostalgia to Acceptance,
Still hear the echoes,
of failure and despair.

There was no love poem
There was us.
It was just words.
The light was still as black,
as the day we slept together,
hoping for a dawn.
despite all the odds.
never knowing why.

  • Shashank Bhardwaj
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beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Poems, poetry

Tonight

Unfurl, unsettle.
The air around disappears sometime in the morning light.
Your eyes, beacon for a calming storm:
Baptised my name for yourself tonight.

Before the gods, the heaven,
The satanic laughter screams tonight.
Are you dream that i miss every day in brights.
Those pink lips, my sky tonight.

Unfurl, unsettle
My heart unrests
Come touch it once .
Atleast tonight.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Touch

The curves begin to melt,
Its astounding we remember
Everything we touch.
So your memory is a trace of fingertips,
From the callous neck, to the sculpted collar bones, you are a like a hidden lake in an island forgotten, where I dip to forget myself,
The curves extrapolate like rays of sunlight never knowing why,
From the breasts to the fine arch of the back,
Everything dissolves again and again,
My hands aren’t wet with your touch?
Are you really what they call as magic?

For my hands disappear within you,
Tracing every tips without whispering you,
Touching everywhere without telling you?
Making it a dream, with dreaming you,
Do you feel it all, or should I be dissolving you?
Not by touch, not by shyness
But by a pool of shyness and leaving you?
I never knew how to withdraw, so the dress is leaving you?
Maniacal? Sensuous? Are you mad?
All sound same. While your eyes teach you.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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beauty, creative-writing, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Writing in a dream

You wear a skin of butterfly bush,
and bathe in a pond of musk,
a dark ocean slithers in your eyes,
with a breeze of warmth trespassing
flesh and bones.
An elixir of forgetfulness drips by the lips,
while potent desire brews on the tongue,
I sometimes wonder what your voice could do,
in the dark?
The collarbone is a carved symphony
with a pleasant hymn in the rain nights,
Have you ever touched something
and not see it melt and sublimate at the same time,
I feel sorry for your neck, for it is a sublime echo of loneliness,
awaiting a cold drizzle that drips to your waist slowly.
Your hands do not forget your love,
they leave imprints on fleshes of those very lucky.
Well I don’t believe in luck.
I believe in writing about them with my bare hands.
What about you?

– SB

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

Split

Hymn those verses
as eyes dive into this
seminal darkness.
the very ones I always hear
and forget
at the end of the dreams.

Build a crown of wood,
and lit it up for those
eager to taste it.

Split the fire
into two parallel mirrors:
power and desire.
let me see the anatomy
and the invisible bones.

They shall keep burning each other
till they forget their purpose,
as the mind and the soul forget
when awaken by the rain of blood.

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

It ain’t

It ain’t a garden
full of roses.

It ain’t an ocean
with humming shores.

It ain’t a waterfall
with raging water.

It ain’t a sky
bleeding crimson.

but it is

a crashing spaceship
manually over-ridden.

a pit of lava,
with miseries of past.

a tornado
engulfing cities.

a subtle rain
entangled with petrichor.

my heart is just a dungeon
with a beautifully dead princess.

stuck in gravity, space
and unwanted timelines

but still breathing the blur,
still living the dream

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