Tag Archives: Poetry

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

Crimson Sky

It’s the driest summer,
the toes do not talk to each other.
The sweat arches its voyage
through the moulded shoulders.
Every moment is a warm echo,
a syllable whispered out by a black tongue.
I drink the silence out of your lips
and my capillaries soak some fire.
Your hands are a paradox of existence,
that decipher my purpose slowly.
Take me to your darkest room,
turn me into a memory
that resurfaces every time
when you close your eyes.
Make me a rain,
that wipes a summer away.
A rain, in which you slowly cried.
This cessation from reality
is obvious but necessary too.
Like your love once was,
When I was your crimson sky.

– Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Sunsets

a crimson sky,
a blue horizon,
a careless troupe of albatrosses, yawning.
A voiceless master of the puppets,
feeding the salt in the air to its children.
an ownerless horse dreaming of grasslands,
a dog treading the unending shores,
a graveyard of the sand-castles,
without tombstones.

All patiently wait for the sunset.
It stays, I believe,
within each one of us.

One of the few things, the death
allows us to take with us.
Did you ever notice?

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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

Longing

october-sunrise-hilton-head-bedford-shore-photography

Waves, the grieving mothers:
always keep coming back to the shores.
With a hope of being embraced
and held forever.

Alas!
But all I see is their exodus
beneath the beautiful crimson sky,
with salt in my breath,
and their unseen teary eyes.

They say, the sound of the ocean is lovely.
But what if it is a humongous melody of lament
conjured from the longing for its shores?

A homonym for the humans
wrapped in nature’s plight.

A dream fed to me
by the silence of the night.

A memory so wrong,
it now seems right.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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beauty, Drinks, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry, Writings

In Warmth

With your laced clothing,
you resplend an aura
that smells of lust and raging whiskey,

the ice fed hands trace your fragile
and sensitive breasts, as you unhook your bra.
With my warm tongue, I lick the chocolate over your pointed nipples.
You caress your fingers with the water between your legs.

I tear away your black panties,
and I am sure you wished for the sooner of it.
I come inside you, inside us
as we tremble as terrified horses
riding in the storm, embracing and feasting
on one another.

Your hips turn warm,
The legs go tired,
we climax in each other arms
and wait to begin again,
in the sunlight, we escaped from.

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

The Language and the tongue

How hard would it be
to be made of flesh and be mortal,
to dream of all the tastes,
and go wet uncontrollably.

To lick your mirror image
in her mouth slowly,
and be satisfied in sometime,
but still, lack a dearth of reason,

to entwine
into a thousand unseen motions,
to caress the nothingness in air
and become understood in front
of all the living.

to be a tongue,
and be a language
and exist
but not noticed
ever.
How hard would it be?

 

© Shashank Bhardwaj

 

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

Swim Away – I

I still remember
the way you swam away,
wriggling out of your clothes,
I could see your wet breasts,
with the tips still drowned in drops.
You took my hand between your legs,
and whispered me to begin my art
of dissolving your shyness into thousand
moans of madness.
The tips turned dry, begging me to lick their
shame of existence away.
I worked through them, I worked below you too.
I sculpted a river of ecstacy within you,
and you went through all, by letting our tongues
mute our lives for sometimes.

The silence, we could still hear.
The silence, we can never forget.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

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