Tag: mypoem

Strangers Again

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The words that’re whispered over three AM talks
Ignoring thunder under rainfall walks
Because you noticed a light in my eyes
Then, when self-esteem was but a word
And the world was a cesspool of lies
Which could be felt and not just heard

Then, when you took me and kissed my lips
And my heart danced in catatonic flips
Then it was that your hair gleamed in the sun
As it fell on my chest, I held it tight
I’d no hope even then that you were one
To last through the day unto the lost night

I recall not one word from yesterday
For none matter now, words aren’t meant to stay
The feel of your hair is gone with that hour
And you have found another pair of eyes
To taste, to praise, to dive in and devour
You become a ninja master of disguise.

I smile and move on to the next three AM talk
Maybe this time I’ll learn and won’t do the walk
The thunder would groan and rumble with might
I’ll notice it keen through the still warm rain
And when I pass you via a quiet night
It will be quite like we were strangers again.

An Old Heartbreak

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I am back…
The conundrum lasts…
There is no answer.
Broken bones into casts.

Broken hearts scatter into dust.
The wind has no mercy.
It does what it must –
And I keep hearing it…

The worst is the limited joy,
It shines delightful and true
Then it succumbs, it breaks,
Fool me, nothing’s new.

Broken joy scatters as it will.
What can I wilfully save?
The wind is blowing cold,
Time never forgave.

What should I offer?
How do I find what I seek?
When can I hope?
Why is joy so delicate, so weak?

Knowledge of me shatters inward.
Am I but a mind not heart?
Was this sundering
A reason enough to start?

The moon dies again.
She cannot help tonight.
The wind is so damn strong,
There’s no will left to fight.

I hear the echoing voice,
To it my hope I forsake,
I am back,
Whispers an old heartbreak.

Expensive Chocolate

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

If I think of all the earlier times,
Of all the dried tears, of all the mixed rhymes,
When I sit and listen quiet to thought,
To all the blissful dreams innocence brought,
The hopes that felt lost somewhere in prayer,
Futures predicted by some soothsayer,
Fathers who seemed to loom so dark and large,
Or those who sold loving words for a charge,
Sailboats guided by dragons in the rain,
Cold nights of love and colder nights of pain,
Ailing mothers who took away sorrow,
Sisters who bravely gave their tomorrow,
Lovers who came, came and crushed all desire,
Feeding worn faith to a funeral pyre,
Grandparents who spoke of idyllic days –
In short, life’s each ephemeral phase.
I remain wide-eyed and alone.
Derelict and silent. A tombstone.
Quietly sipping expensive chocolate,
Thinking about will, wondering about fate.