Tag: my Poetry

Futile Promises – A Moon Song

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

It’s five in the morning
The moon hangs over a cloud:
Just as lonesome as I,
Wondering, if silence is just as loud
As a future goodbye.

I have no promises to fulfill;
You have none that you can keep;
The moon whispers none to me:
Gives me no certainty of sleep,
And of rest, no guarantee.

I shall see you again now;
But, after a while, you will disappear.
There will be just me and the moon
And it has always been clear:
A heartbreak is due very soon.

Promises are futile. They break.
Once there is a parting, it is done.
Love has no say in the sundering.
All will be left to dry out in the sun
As stark daylight comes plundering.

It will charge out, in a dust and a storm,
And words will be torn and taken,
To different lands and different skies,
And I shall once again awaken,
When the cruel sun tires out and dies.

Here I Am – A Moon Song

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Here I am again.
Looking at the moon.
Somewhere in my heart
There beats a familiar tune.

She sings to the sky –
She shines through the night.
I have loved her before –
I have been loved by light.

The sun struggles to rise;
This love triangle I know;
The moon lies and lies and lies;
But the sun burns me so.

So I crave for the dark
And, when the sky is night,
I yearn for her crescent
That waxes so bright.

But I’ve heard her song,
It may cut like a knife,
The illusion of love
Is much cause for strife.

The moon shall wane,
She will break me with pain;
The sun will laugh and laugh
When he rises, unfailingly, again.

I used to wish upon a star;
But wishes are games;
When you wish upon stars,
Who remembers their names?

They are but suns,
That will someday die,
Or will just erupt
And shoot out of the sky.

I rely on the moon.
She dispels all noise.
She wanes and she waxes;
But never destroys.

I look to her for counsel,
She never gives it clear;
Since I turn to her often,
She holds me very dear.

So I sit quiet and stare,
I do not complain,
She knows me by now,
She soothes most of my pain.

She is my muse,
I depend on her face,
She trumps the sun,
For she taught me grace.

Shame

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

Stand a bit straight,
Lose a bit of weight,
Hold your stomach in,
Just so you fit in.

That boy there wants you –
You sure think it’s true…
He looks at you and smiles;
The seeming truth beguiles.

So you stand a bit straight,
Hope he doesn’t notice the weight,
Hold your stomach in,
And hope you fit in
His idea of beautiful…
You know,
What he thinks is cool.

He says nice things,
Oh, the joy that brings!
Talks and walks follow,
It’s how it’s meant to be, no?

You look up at his eyes,
He says there are no lies,
You believe and give in,
You feel,
You have fit in.

You show him your flaws;
You retract your claws;
You bring out your inner clown,
And
You let your guard down.

But

It just takes a shrug,
It just takes a word,
It just takes a scoff,
Never meant to be heard.
A looking away
When you want those eyes,
A tender word
To ease your soul
Which never appears,
His backing off
As you lean closer,
His being sated
And your hunger,
He has found himself,
All you are is lost.

So you cannot stand straight,
Hate your own weight,
Look at your body, face, hair
And you stare and stare and stare.
All you see looking back is you;
Try to recall whomsoever liked you;
If any of it was ever really true
And blame the answer standing before you.