Category: Written in 2004

Choices.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

If I were to stand on one side,
Opposed to the world and the ties that bind,
Which would you choose? Me or those?
What would my eyes see? What would my heart find?

Oracles in my life warned in vain:
‘Find one who knows his choice, one who knows to fight;
The one who knows what is dark,
One who can shield and yet guide you to the light.’

Choices, after all, are often heart-made;
And there was your face – you came to me as a better choice,
The gentle heart behind golden eyes,
No matter the length of years or lack of diligent voice.

The time was such.
But beginnings are always passionate, star-bright,
You used to bring me flowers,
Those hours of impatient wait, those miss-you nights.

But things change,
There is so much to write;
If only I could lose …
If only you could fight.

If I were to stand on one side,
Opposed to the world and the ties that bind,
I know what you would choose,
And your regret of what you leave behind.

22 January.
5am

How You Deal With Confessions.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

When you know what has been on my mind,
Insecurities and heartache, I let you find,
You behave as though a fly buzzed past
Which was more insignificant that the last.
My exposed heart burst with frantic pain,
So I pick it up and squeeze it once again.
I don’t like to see it fallen at your feet,
Your nose turned from the smell beneath.
I don’t like my blood upon your shoes,
You’ll be hampered if your laces come loose.
And I wouldn’t want you to soil your hands,
They are needed to care for your sought-after glands.
The appendages of others, too, need your tending,
So I pick up my heart – it’s just a matter of bending.
I want to let the poor, smelly thing die –
But I can’t let it – I don’t know why!
Perhaps some other hands
Were made to let it rest –
Hold and love it, seal and protect it,
Though within my chest.

8th May
10pm

The Moon.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The moon is bright in a sky of midnight blue,
and I can hear the howling of a wolf – and wind, too.
I walk onto the dark porch and hear the trees sigh,
and I lean down and stroke my dog lying nearby.
The grass is not trimmed, it moves in the breeze,
Somewhere in the house I hear my sister sneeze.
The porch light is broken, but the moon seems enough,
And the flying leaves prove the wind isn’t that rough.
I look up at the moon and hear the wolf’s lament,
Then squeeze my eyes shut and take in the firmament.
I wrap my arms around me in a warm embrace;
And let the moonlight and shadows play on my face.

My dog leans up and nudges my knee,
As if to ask me what thoughts I see.
I look down and gaze into her gentle soft eyes,
And think of telling her a few white lies.
Then I smile and, leaning close, whisper in her ear,
“Tonight the moon tells me I am not to fear.”
“Fear?” She cocks her large head at me,
“Oh never mind,” I chastise her, albeit fondly.

I look back at the moon and some clouds have her now,
I wait till I see her again with some stars on her brow,
I turn half not wanting to – and thank her with a smile,
For easing some of life’s worries for just a little while.

10th April