Tag: my poem

Go

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

As I grow older,
The heart grows colder:
The friends from my past
Did not really last.

The flames of youth
Are rendered moot.
Against bitter time,
I do not whine.

If as I grow,
I get to know
Everything dies,
I harbour no lies.

Death chips my heart,
Part by stony part;
And each sharp blow
Teaches to let go.

I have learnt well,
Walking through Hell,
That heaven is the same
With a different name.

And as grief goes,
With each smile,
I must let anger go
In the same style.

That Guy

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I’m the guy who sees the first star
In the night sky
and thinks of wishes to be made.
I’m the guy who collects each card
That he receives:
Cards carry thought in writing,
colours carry emotion.
I’m the guy who will love a book
As a gift,
But loves the inscription more;
Those few words are the reason
For all the rest of the words
Printed within.
I’m the guy who forgives easy,
Millennia of letting go
Is carried in my unconscious.
I’m the guy who cries
When watching a sad movie –
(Yep, i’m that guy,
So beware.)
I’m also the guy who doesn’t expect less,
Though there is more understanding derived from each facet of new experience.
I’m the guy who doesn’t regret
Much.
I’m the guy who loves easy but long.
Love tends to last
Over money, life and even time.
I’m the guy who recognises,
The inevitability of loss,
Yet chooses to return
To what appears fragile.

I’m the guy who has learnt a lot
But isn’t done with learning.
I’m the guy who wants to give up hope
But isn’t done with yearning.

Little Things

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

It starts small.

Little things you forget to do.

The morning kiss

On the forehead as you leave

Out the door.

The roses

Brought just to say

What words always do.

The lingering stare

Across a friend’s

Birthday dinner.

The time spent

In each other’s company

Because you missed him

After a day of work.

The arm across the shoulder

As you take the pet for a walk.

The questioning

After a troubling statement.

The soft spoken hi

Between naked bodies

In a warm bed.

These are the first to go.

Sacrificed to oblivion

As unconsciously done

As when they first formed.