Tag: poemblog

The Twins.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Storming the brain of the mind of the twin,
Had not the measure of love that would give
Joy, nor the hurt, nor the pain that could win
All the interesting decisions to live

Flying from Worlds where Happiness lives on,
Rested in homes wherein Lust oft deceived –
Laughing and waving with him Hope had gone –
Smilingly, Life in a whisper believed:

“Lying for thee, and then pining for thee,
“Crying for all, to be happy for what?
“Vain and unkind, to be sure, thou shall be,
“Naught to the world, in quandaries caught.”

Just like the Earth, in a dream for the Sun,
Blissfully aches to unite and be one,
Hearts of the two (like the Prodigal Son)
Waiting to feel then be crushed by the ton.

Waiting and waiting, to wait is a curse,
Lasting forever like darkness of death,
Hope has been carried away in a hearse,
Gone and forgotten to never be met.

Life which follows with a staggering sway,
Breathes with the burden of living alone,
Crying in anger and begging her stay,
Losing a twin is a reason to mourn.

Looking in eyes that do kindly seem true,
Life in a dilemma is scared to be weak,
Searching for Hope in a crowd of so few,
Now, to be happy, a love she does seek.

Myself.

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia5 Comments

The swing I sat on, when I was five,
Gave me the greatest pleasure.
I knew happiness as I swung,
Thinking life was leisure.
The wind rushing against my face
Promised that it would last.
Now, I smile, ruefully,
When I remember that swing from my past.

Life is cruel, just as it is kind,
(To be kind it needs to be cruel);
Love, happiness, honour and beauty
Are trapped in its unceasing duel.
I used to love with gay abandon;
Now caution dictates my every move,
In matters of life,
In matters of love.

I still wear my heart on my sleeve,
Though I try harder to shield it,
I have sharpened my brain with experience,
And I have learnt to wield it.
Years have passed and are passing still,
I have lost those I loved and some have lost me,
I have been touched and have been bruised,
Each caress and weal is stored in memory.

You see a part of me now,
Perhaps I shall let you see the other sides of me:
Perhaps you’ll see the boy, with the wind on that swing,
Perhaps the present or some future destiny.
Through all of your judgement know this,
Disregarding every shred of vanity:
You never did, never will or hope to know,
Any other quite like me.

Hope.

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The beclouded moon, humming a mournful tune,
In a panel of grey,
Crisp leaves abed, on a ground that’s dead,
Pave a solitary way.

A harp that’s silent, in a world that is violent,
Speaks of life today;
A listless expression, on a face in depression,
A humourless sway.

Beauteous Nature barred, from lives that are charred,
Of their very substances;
People do seek compassion, in the guise of passion,
Betraying all nuances.

They welcome greed and nothing’s left to feed,
Their hungering souls;
Rising out of wombs, they are ghosts from tombs,
Just wandering fools.

Trying to find peace, in this worldly alcove,
Is not an easy task;
Trying to evade all, as hearts start to fade,
Behind the darkest mask.

Entrapped within lures, that have no known cures,
That have no escape;
You hope to find a heart that won’t ever depart,
Leaving your body agape.

9th June.