Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Daybreak

Its the dead of the night,
3AM or 6AM, it does not matter.
I trace the cold drops of water
on your bare back, your subtle moans
subdue within, you turn and kiss me back,
My hands provide warmth to your cold breasts,
Cupping them till you break away
I continue on the neck, while you make the sound of rain go away,
I feel your hands caressing mine,
Taking it slowly between your legs.
We forget the thunders and lightning
and the dying earth.
We just move on.

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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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beauty, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Poems, poetry, Writings

Taste of Insecurity – Haibun

I lie on the ground, the grass is still wet from the fog.
I turn and turn, the rose petals are still shameless, it’s like the dying autumn, massacred by the winter.
I seek you in the dream I always had, near a valley, by the sea, the coral reefs too stubborn to die. Taste that water, the blue elixir. Don’t just leave me with a sense of insecurity, It feels like a packet of cigarettes from a night you cannot remember on your tongue. The seagulls will laugh on a specie with no control over heart. I dream of you for your voice is the dream : subtle, pure and forgiving. The lands of the beach are a sign to find to a spot to sleep when the moon drinks itself to brightness. I turn into a universe that kisses the galaxy. So close but so imagined.

My heart, flower now,
Crush it for the taste once
Touch me tonight ,once.

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beauty, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Art

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.

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

The Exalted Pursuits

To define an exit,
is to summon a purpose,
I defined snow, without touching it.
It has never left me since.

In the dreams,
under the sky robbed of stars,
in this utter disturbance of existence.
I wished you never painted me as a mosaic,
as well as I do.

My hands coloring with hues of autumn, winter
and unkissed summer,
because to fail you shall be the end of my potrait.
the symmetry in love is astounding.

Thousand touches on those brown eyes still unfelt
shall yield their numbness:
an art before departure,
a history before invasion.
a cause without a purpose.

This winter ends today
the glass panes conjure a colorful silence :
yellow, a touch of comfort,
when it travels back,
this premonition of forgetfulness
shall shine on you.

Lay these eyelids on purpose, today, at least
What is to be lost? Than a fickle dream
and city made of failed purposes
with us as the lone survivors,
building cities as we forget,
what is like to be loved,
without words.

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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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