Category: Poems

What Tomorrow?

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I don’t know what tomorrow’s going to bring—
We make our plans, but they don’t always stick.
Life shifts the rules with barely any warning,
And things can go to hell real bloody quick.

I spoke to my sister of future affairs—
Who gets what, and where the lines are drawn.
But truly, who can say what’s fair or final
When fate might toss it all before the dawn?

Friendships I swore would last have cracked and faded,
Lovers I trusted left me worse than bare.
There’s no way to foresee the next betrayal—
Who’ll walk away, and who’ll pretend to care.

So here I sit and write upon the loo,
Aware no school will teach this sombre verse.
Yet if I sleep tonight and don’t awaken—
This poem won’t even earn a second curse.

As Time Takes Me

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I sit and stare at my phone.
Images swipe past, as do voices.
They all tell me stories;
They all give me choices.

But I’m surfeited with life and death.
And can’t truly tell what seems better.
I must have handed this decision
To a love who loved in some love letter.

Now things aren’t clear as I stare.
I can’t think of a tomorrow.
Then may be smiles I can’t see,
Now is just a tsunami of sorrow.

So perhaps, as the summer wanes
And blistering heat turns into rain,
I might choose a brand new story,
As time helps me live beyond the pain.

Nowhere Left to Run

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The politician plays victim
The willing poor pay his expense;
The sun spins around his world,
Making justice lose her sense.

The rhyme here is contrived,
Like the machinations of power;
The workers work to death,
The rich get richer by the hour.

Trees are hewn down in thousands,
Ground water will soon cease to flow;
And the intelligentsia keep mum,
Though they are all in the know.

Politics wields a flaming sword,
Darker than any Stygian abyss;
While religions hold the idiots in thrall,
Robbing every Eve of her kiss.

Free speech is throttled now,
Jingoism empowers the fools;
History and logic become
Embittered and useless tools.

The world teeters as it stays still
This mother too is given no choice;
So, we have nowhere left to run,
But in a maze, with no thought, sight, voice.