Rhapsodies of Love

Right at the cusp
where my words
merge with your
tender breaths
that’s where
my poems dawn
with a whiff of
iambic rhythm
stirred by
your symphonic
inhales and exhales

and I let
my verses melt
with the touch
of your warm lips
dripping gently
like the blobs of
molten desires
exuding from
the rhyme of
entwined kisses
quietly reciting
rhapsodies of love.

~ Chhaya

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thoughts of You

Falling from the edge of vacuity
to the abyss of amorphous past
I surrender myself to times
that still cling on to your memories
my veins crick in ceaseless pain
and bruised hopes decay and rot
conforming to chronic despondency
to slowly yield my own mortification

I quickly swallow the midnight coal
and imbibe the murk of charcoal gloom
to escape the plague of gleaming lights
that pervade my brain like opaque paint
and in a spate of quiscent erruptions
I can feel dehiscence of your thoughts
twitching, shredding
and shaking my senses
perforating through my cold follicles
like some alien sebaceous secretion
slowly saturating my porous bones.

~ Chhaya

Riverine

You flow through me
like a sparkling untamed river
majestic and unsurpassed
navigating through
my brown sedimentary skin
caressing my body
with gush of lustrous waves

your sensuous gentle ripples
stir my phlegmatic desires
like a ferocious deluge
hitting a comatose coast
and I bend and curve
through your smooth meanders
conforming to your silent urges

Oh! can’t you see ?
I am all riverine tonight.

~ Chhaya

Rain, Romance and Lunacy

So glad to share this little piece of poetry that I did in collaboration with my dear friend and fellow blogger Ankan. It was so much fun to bring this out here, and we really hope that you would enjoy it too. Do check out Ankan’s page here for more of his amazing poetry.

(My lines in italics) 

The fluorescent is oscillating
between blue and red luminous upliftment
like some bohemian art 
flickering spirits of a drunken maverick

Windows are open
still there’s no light outside
I have evident this darkness before
hollow and impenetrable
in the chaotic silence of 
anxious and ominous days

clouds and the choirs of hallucinating waters
take over me like a devastating spell

there’s a rhythm in it
there’s a music in it
like that of a
withered primitive melody
sentient and hypnotic

and I am the madman putting words through them
words through rhythm making a poetry of wet and damp urban mess
words through music making a poetry which doesn’t make any sense
arranging semantic distractions in vague orders
to yield textured connotations from volatile tenors
provocative yet soothing
shallow yet abyssal

but the third one is magic
the third one is words through both rhythms and music
concerted into an enchanting symphony
with the synergy of sonorous quietude 

Well, I get a song there
significant and from the roots of melancholic rain.

~ In collaboration, Ankan and Chhaya

The Last Summer

I have seen kisses dry
embraces shrivel
and the warmth of touches
turn into scalding frictions
of unfathomed rancour

silhouetted against the sky
I have felt our bodies char
in the sweltering surly nights
insentient of the placid moon
when the tirades of reviling odium
took over us like a febrile illness
and our words blistered malice

we lived with rumpled desires
and crumpled hopes
our wrinkled leathery faces
narrated impassive stories
of a vapid arid romance
and cracked eyes revealed
traces of shattered dreams
as we saw our love fade
from pink to blanched pale
in the ruthless spell of summer
that we last spent together.

~ Chhaya

 

 

 

 

 

Season of Hope

The shivers
that wake me up
at somber nights
are nothing but
gelid spells of
lingering touches
frozen in the
immured stretches
of congealed past

the lost summers
are patches on my skin
of parched caresses
and scorched fondles
Oh! How I undermined
the repercussions of
desiccated memories

but the springs
in my eyes
ask me to hold on
the trecharies
dead and burried
would manure
the blooms to come
they say
deceptions bygone
shall inundate
the barren brown days
with cascades of blue
giving way to
virescent grass of hope
I am told

so I wait
under the caliginous sky
where my tenebrous fears
hide in the folds of murk
until my dreams unfurl
and soar with a leap of faith
in the lambent eminence of
splendid sanguine aurora
elegantly emanating from
a slick turn of time.

~ Chhaya

 

 

 

 

 

 

Damp

Your forever
was too brief
like an abrupt
summer rain
marked by
a swift exit
and a reluctant
tipper tapper
silent enough
to be ignored
in the roaring heat
amidst life’s clamour
and yet
I was drenched
in your beguiling mizzle
penetrating my pores
like mellow lyrics
of some misty song
leaving me damp
for a lifetime.
~ Chhaya

The Static

The pepper night hues
seasoned with
turmeric lights
that we savoured together
are now recipes of
insipid vacuous gloom
plattered with pain
and despodency
the mothballed sleeps
yield no dreams anymore
and clock only drags
with a cumbrous weight
“time never felt as heavy
when you were here”

the only thing motile
left in me now
are my thoughts
peripatetic, wayfaring
vagrant and itinerant
rest I am all static
quiescent
and almost torpid
like the sky
with its immutable latency

yes, I know
I could have counted
my breaths too
the alter in my chest
from high to low then high
with every inhale and exhale
which follows
but let’s not be deceived
for I hope you know
it’s been fairly long
that I disowned them
and what I snort now
are only borrowed gasps
from the remains of
exanimated life
that you left me with.

~ Chhaya

 

 

Leftover Nights (A collaboration)

So very excited to share with you this piece of collaborative poetry that I got to do with my dearest friend, a lovely person and an immensely gifted poetess, Devika from My Valiant Soul. It’s an honour to be writing with her, someone whose words I deeply adore and admire. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing. 🙂

(Me in italics)

A room full of rancid leftover night
is a reminder of repugnant voids
that conform to the oddities
of a desolate decaying mind

I hear my mind crackling and fading
with whispers gone, numbness sticking
the walls break inside my opaque body,
thrashing and mocking soliloquy wilderness
Pain: the metamorphosis of painkillers, death.
Hold my cryptic thistle cacophonies
Like a lotus scratching a lotus.

the senescent atrophic walls
that preserve banal prosaics
from bromidic tales of love
are a source of an abhorrent odour
clogging conduits of all my senses
and all that permeates my cranium
is an insistent sound of stale knocks
that still linger on brazen panels
placed on fermenting doors of oak

Devoid of a filter, cupid raspberry, air.
My veins play laconic tunes to deaf poetry
with sinking toes in a pool of madness
my body aches and desiccates, trepidation somewhere.
The wax image of my parched lips,
dribbles till the curtains evaporate.
Icicles of pain pokes my palm
Unheard epiphanies, unheard voices.
Wars occur and I am a black moon swinging.
Under the clock of stingy bees
I dedicate my memories
I dedicate my breaths, mirrors and lost talks

and I grieve for murky windows
with shrivelled wavering frames
held by creaking rusted hinges
the ones that steadily deflect
every beam of light and hope
yielding layers of mouldy mildew
to spread like a suppurating sore
on the bod of my mephitic room
filled with leftover nights without you.

~ MVS (Devika) and Chhaya

 

 

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