Tag: Moon

Robin

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Some robins die in cages,
Though they mean renewal
To the world living outside.
Sometimes they get trapped,
Inside a home and seek escape;
But hit a revolving fan.
The world comes between
Their wings and the open sky.
But they are part of the world
Which has life and can die.
Reason is sung out by faith;
Hope may play its own tune;
For faith prays like the sun,
Hope fluctuates like the moon.
And robins try their best,
But life must have its say!
It may leave them free to nest
Or it itself flies away.

Even you

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

You leave and you return,
You leave and you return,
And all the days pass by soon,
But, in the dark, you all leave
And silence learns eerier tune.

Some say, lovers leave and should,
If anyone knows, you would;
But some say some do return;
That happens rare and, mostly,
In loneliness, alone, you shall burn.

You’ve seen the moon shine bright,
She can take the sole centre of night,
All rave on her beauty, some swoon;
But, on the darkest night, she leaves –
Even the moon leaves, even the moon.

So laugh, if you can, and fuck and eat
And, if you can, go ahead and repeat;
Everyone leaves and this is true;
And in the darkest hours of deceit,
Even you could leave, and yes, so will you.

A Certain Sun

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The morning gives me no solace:
It has come with heat and light
And I find myself asking
For the dark horns of the night.

Then I find love, soaked in desire,
Wrapped up in your arms and hair,
Smells of burgers and coffee,
Snarled sheets hiding all that’s bare.

The sun brings in the future,
The future has torn the heart,
Time sheds light on the knowledge,
That soon you and I must part.

Families, jobs, money wait;
The sun brings them all back in;
I fear what the world might say,
How you were lead in to sin.

The sun burns my exposed skin,
All hair shines like molten fire;
The sun just shows me the truth,
The stars just show me desire.

I could wait for the next moon:
Who knows just what I might get;
But memories of ones before
Depend on how soon you’ll forget.

The sun barges through the window.
I lean back and draw the curtain.
I note: it’s only his return
Of which I am fully certain.