Category: Poems

Parent

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I am the one who’s supposed to love thee –
And age has been mercilessly cruel –
Its rampage has destroyed both love and hope,
Like careful fire thrown on some spilt fuel.
I was raised looking up at and to you,
In life’s battles you gained an awesome height.
I took your word as the ultimate law,
And I was never one to choose to fight.

Time, unfailingly, is the best teacher,
It raises the weak and topples the high,
It marks the practice against the preacher,
It stand right up and demands to know why.
Blind was supposed to be all love for thee,
Now how do I do, for now I can see.

Little things.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

It starts slow. 

Little things you forget to do. 

Little words you forget to say. 

Some thoughts die, some memories too  –

Just little things. 

It’s a human condition. 

Let’s just attribute it to genes. 

It’s like waking up to life 

And forgetting all of sleep’s dreams. 

It’s a recurrence of the new,

It’s a letting go of the past;

It’s another one of life’s lessons:

All good things seldom last. 

Little things come in that are new:

A word of love, a laugh that rhymes,

A road that hasn’t been taken,

A blurring of drawn out lines. 

People talk of love and faith and hope;

But time corrodes even diamond rings;

And they lie forgotten in the universe,

Swept off in dust as little things,

Just little things. 

Night

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Oh, I cannot help that night has loved me

More so than any reality day brought;

For night has soothed my dreams and set me free

Of the insanity that life has sought.

The loneliness people gave is day born;

None of the hours of night has whipped my soul;

While day has taught me anguish and scorn,

Night vents sorrow and resurrects me whole. 

Sunlight reflects all the wrong in this life, 

I doubt not it has taught me well to learn;

But starlight held my futile dreams through strife,

And it taught me to soothe: I do not burn. 

I give my love through night, to night I turn;

Through day I may pass, for night I yet yearn.