Tag: hsc285

The Age of Dust

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Read about wars;
Heard about deaths;
Know human beings
And their penchant for power.
Fairy tales spoke of it:
Witches who killed princes,
Then priests who killed witches—
Even those who healed.

April brought sweet showers
That the dead could not dance in.
Yet wars were fought,
History was written—
Differently, for different powers.
Gods upon millennia
Passed.
And human beings remain
Stupid.
Clinging to faith, or awe,
Taught by fear
Of being so small
In the glowing massiveness of universes.
Unrealising:
We come from stars, too.

Yet we choose death,
Born of greed that strips
Root from tree,
Child from mother—
To fight for strips of land
That will never remain ours.
Nor will the name
Your dead mother gave you,
That the world remembered
For just an age.

Toothache

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Toothaches are rare –
Like heartbreaks,
In relationships
One needs to care:
Brush and floss
(Twice daily)
So the ache stays away.

But when care is lost –
Teeth fester.
Often, an extraction
Is the only way
To stop infection.

Notes

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I have lost the will to rhyme,
I have no hurt left to give;
I have given up on time,
Besides the will to forgive.

The questions don’t linger now,
For I know my self quite well:
It’s seldom I break a vow,
Though I have no soul to sell.

Death does not loom, not for me,
It is a known song I sing,
It’s just that the notes aren’t free,
So I fear some reckoning.

I have lost and I have gained,
Like fat that comes and goes,
Neither state ever remained:
Sunlight into moonlight flows.

My people don’t like me much,
But I hope my furkids do;
Love has yet its own sweet touch;
Thus, I bear when it’s untrue.

I become something older;
Yet I recognise the child;
Temperance makes me colder;
But oh, panic keeps me wild!