Author: Harpreet Chhachhia

Just me and nothing else but.

To a friend, on her birthday

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

Swelling burdens have made our hearts colder,
Harder is the mind that becomes older,
Bitter are the years that keep on flowing,
Darker the despair that keeps on growing.
Fortunes or the vainer Powers That Be
Have pushed our souls to each extremity;
Our lives have inverted each dream we dreamed
Into the opposite of what they seemed.

But through it all, oh, dearest friend of mine,
In one way bested were the hands of Time:
No word or action, great or small, signifies
This presence of Hope that most love denies,
It lasts as better parts of you and me,
In some better part of eternity.

The Last Temptation

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

Before descending into earthly dust,
I must’ve stood before the Powers-That-Be,
What I could, what I should and what I must,
To a point where Mammon conditioned me
On how I need to worship his deity.
I must’ve smiled then, which raised powerful brows,
As I still do on this world, here and now
(Though these brows have nothing to do with fate)
I must’ve said something to his contrary;
The others must’ve smiled at this intellectual snobbery.
Then I was thrown down to this existence
But Mammon’s Father must’ve had the last laugh:
For wasn’t the Last Temptation a Life in the Ordinary?

Form

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

Thoughts try to find ground in the head
They find quicksand instead
They strive for some tangible form
To fit in some societal norm

But experiences of the past
Make the confusion last
They scatter like leaves in the wind
Thousands of forms burst and rescind –

It’s also a miasma of feeling
A jealous concealing
Of the brain’s inability to choose
And the heart’s inability to lose –

That feeling coalesces with thought
The only form that’s brought
Is a hurricane of emotion
Atop an intellectual ocean.

Circles of wind driving through grey
Like feelings that won’t stay
In circles of vapour they go
Churning everything in their flow –

The waters beneath trying to reason
Seems sadly like treason
Within their darkest depths they know
They will forever battle so –

The wind of thought shall never ease
Over vast emotional seas
None can understand completely
This unstructured philosophy

That finding for thought an outline
That tagging an emotional sign
That this itself is foolishness
That form in essence is formless