Tag: my Poetry

Parent

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I am the one who’s supposed to love thee –
And age has been mercilessly cruel –
Its rampage has destroyed both love and hope,
Like careful fire thrown on some spilt fuel.
I was raised looking up at and to you,
In life’s battles you gained an awesome height.
I took your word as the ultimate law,
And I was never one to choose to fight.

Time, unfailingly, is the best teacher,
It raises the weak and topples the high,
It marks the practice against the preacher,
It stand right up and demands to know why.
Blind was supposed to be all love for thee,
Now how do I do, for now I can see.

Little things.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

It starts slow. 

Little things you forget to do. 

Little words you forget to say. 

Some thoughts die, some memories too  –

Just little things. 

It’s a human condition. 

Let’s just attribute it to genes. 

It’s like waking up to life 

And forgetting all of sleep’s dreams. 

It’s a recurrence of the new,

It’s a letting go of the past;

It’s another one of life’s lessons:

All good things seldom last. 

Little things come in that are new:

A word of love, a laugh that rhymes,

A road that hasn’t been taken,

A blurring of drawn out lines. 

People talk of love and faith and hope;

But time corrodes even diamond rings;

And they lie forgotten in the universe,

Swept off in dust as little things,

Just little things. 

Scholar

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The scent of intellect is cruel,
It disregards the shoulder of emotion,
The neck of subtlety,
And the breath that churns like waves of the ocean.

Its logic and reason are sharp cutting tools
That strip the covering off the breast;
It relies on no aspect of beauty,
Unless beauty passes some deductive test.

I am not quite certain of this scent
And its application on warm heart beats…
I cannot take pleasure in all that it wins over,
For I ache for all that it casually defeats.