Tag: poem

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.

Receipt

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I wait for the delivered sign
To change to a read receipt;
But, knowing you are fast asleep,
It most becomes a matter of conceit:
To be upset you could turn away
And find peace in sleep so soon,
When I can’t help lie wide awake,
In the darkness of my room.

I wonder if our differences
Would be smaller than love,
If you know I’m not stronger
Than those who push and shove,
Who play games that shed blood,
With guns and ganks and strategy,
Who are young with ribs and abs,
With no depth to counter young vanity.

I wonder, if you notice all the nights
I lie awake and wonder if I’ll win,
In this round of relationships
And manage this subtle crucifix of sin.
With shards of jealousies and tempers
That have not worn out with age
And if I begin to speak of my faults
I’d need more than one soliloquy on stage.

Yet I have eyes, eyes that glisten
With past sacrifice and present emotion
And they gather all that there needs to be known
About people, love, lust and devotion.
You have my love now for better
Or for worse, for all of my remaining days
And perhaps all of the hours and years
That make up the sum of a fantastic always.

Make me know if I have yours and you
For I bitterly fail at the one thing called trust
So give me hope and make me know
If we can link our fates or perhaps if we must.
And the signs must change as is their wont
And sleep will come floating down the throat of night
As I sit and lie and live with or without you
Choosing in bursts to win or surrender the fight.