Tag: heart

Heart of gold

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

How do I get trust back?
What do I have to give?
What is it that I lack?
Are promises broken,
After they are conceived
And when they are spoken?
Have cheating hearts all hurt
So bad, that all I’m left
Are memories of dirt?
Those times that used to gleam,
Now lie torn apart as
Waking does to a dream.
How to unlearn lessons?
How do I unhear pain
Of selfish confessions?
Miners of hearts of gold
Are left with bright pyrite
Which can never be sold.
What can I get from life,
If I lose dreams and trust
And acquire love and strife?
Is this true for you, too,
That all life lives to give,
Is love from an I love you?
I am so tired you see,
But I don’t understand.
Give me a cup of tea.
I shall sit back and live,
While it lasts, I’ll forget
I can choose to forgive.

Sonnet

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I took his hand, while drifting on the shore,
He mistook the shallows for the ocean.
His youth found the beauty in all the lore,
Caressing the anchor, devoid of motion.
My captain stood against a want and need,
To protect him from what must lay ahead:
Shattered lessons of betrayal and greed,
Of weighed down dreams, upon an ocean bed.

What he does not know now need not be known…
But when landlocked safety is rejected,
I‘d have to take what I myself have grown,
And sail to the deep and the dejected.

When waters roar and his eyes froth with fear,
I wish enough remains to pull him near.

Trojan

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

It’s all a matter of time:
Love evolves into honesty
And the tube light glare
Rips through at some point.
The thing that was once hidden,
Under the guise of empathy,
Lies naked for all to see,

Like a broken body after rape,
Open to the lenses of posterity
And a boggling public
That cranes to see which part
Was most abused.
The need to hide exists no more.
Justice demands sight and hearing.
A lynching is required.

Love is stronger than romance
And it can withstand a slap,
Or two.

Compromise is a grey area.

Love was not the same,
Either for Helen or Mumtaz –
Tom had jumped on a sofa
And after begetting children
Of blood, they say,
It all ended amicably.
I mean, the jumping ended.

I think myself grand enough
To think mine will last.
I shall let the Trojans in though;
Because I love horses.
(That is a different kind of love.)