Tag: my Poetry

Life tells me to run now, run fast:

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Life tells me to run now, run fast:
Make each moment count, each smile last!
The night haunts me, the house cries
The shadows gnaw and all light dies.

A sliver escapes and flashes like a star
But that sliver is small and it’s so far.
I stand among roses and thorns
And even use my heart’s evil horns.

I stretch my hand right out, I ache
To acquire it before these horns break
The heart already bleeds and the dark closes
While an invisible worm rapes my roses.

A black, fathomful river twists my way
Rolling, eating each hope of fading day

Sweat pores down my temples, I stretch
My hand to that sliver of light…
Nausea builds, breath stops, I wretch
And my body becomes a miserable sight.

I hear the river; the horns break;
I fall into my roses; the thorns cut
Into my flesh and I cry, “For my sake,
God, for my sake!” But

All I hear in response is the closing river;
He becomes the taker I become the giver;
I stand, wounded, and gaze at that star;
Can hear the water rushing, not very far,

And wait for it carry me to a different land,
Or for that star to fall,
Into my outstretched hand.

Whom do you turn to?

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Whom do you turn to, love,
When you’re blue and lonely,
Now that you are away from me?
Whom do you sing for, love,
When a sweet melody
Rises in your throat and breaks free?

Whom do you look at, love,
When your eyes search for hope,
After bitterness rains your way?
Whom do you touch, my love,
When you need touch to cope
With the anxiety of your day?

Whom do you talk to, love,
When your words become tears
And the present strikes up the past?
Whom do you seek out, love,
When you need to calm fears
That seem dire and poignant and vast?

Whom do you pray for, love,
When you kneel down at night
And whisper words known but to you?
Whom do you reach for, love,
When you wake up in fright
To see the Old killed by the New?

Whom do you love, my love,
When the night grows cold
And pain arises endlessly?
Whom will you love, my love,
When your life shall grow old,
With memory for company?

To Bonzo

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

The words I write now may not seem so true,
And neither shall I plead forgiveness, dear,
For all I said and did just to hurt you.
For who shall see my grief, or the lone tear
That falls upon your grave besides the sea;
To whom shall I turn now? Who is all mine?
Sweet death, which lifts your soul to be set free?
Or Life, which is mortal, thus not divine?
I hearken! Yet I know, ‘tis but in sleep
I feel he sound your heart beats on mine own;
But when I see the dawn, I cease to weep
And thoughts of loss I can’t help but disown.
For when I weigh the smiles against the frowns,
My lone tear ‘mid the sea rapidly drowns.

2nd August