Timbered Hopes

Rubbing my hands
on the scabrous blanket
enveloping the frigid night
I kindle timbered hopes
torpid as they stood
like redundant clapboards
waiting to be disposed of
before they are nibbled by the termites
the charred tips of my fingers
oozing salve to becalm
the blistered sores
of lingering desires
the pungent fumes
of combusting yearnings
the only anodyne
to allay my perturbed mind.

~ Chhaya



Silent Verse

I am a silent verse
calling out your name
with the flutter of my lips
and the cadence of my breath
from the hollowness rooted
deep inside my gut
and the wide emptiness
oozing out of my heart
and I raise up a timbre
with gush of lumbering gore
and the throbs emanating
from dark pit on my core
to gently release
in a rumbling sonance
the cricks that reside
in the contour of my frame
and the spasms that linger
in the pith of my bone.

~ Chhaya

The Wait

Sun kissed mornings
steal my nights
those savoured
in your fragrance
leaving me aghast
unfathomed and agap
in deep dark patches
of blazing days
charred into cinders
by the furnace of despair
and a molten me
strives hard
to be viscous enough
to flow with the time
where days turn into nights
so I can find you again
until dawn drifts us away.


Ashy Dreams

My dreams are somber ashes
spread over opaque night
guarded by misty moon
to be preserved till the end of time
they are blown by balmy breeze
flowing slowly as you breathe
my name in a turn of gasp
when loneness gets too stark
and you want to reach to me
but there’s no way it can be
that’s when those ashes fly
hoping that they will somehow find
you dreaming of me too
just like I always do
and then we will sleep in peace
when our dreams will come to meet.


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