The Darklings

Angry, the wind howled

I chose the frosty moonbeam, over

the raging fire, blessed by hell

my own twin flame

Banished in death,

I wandered the weathered land

Chained, cursed by your love

as dark as my sinful soul

My heart denounced me

tormented, by your betrayed eyes

Guilt ruled by the day,

reigned, mauled me by the night

Lonely, I treaded the moor

paralysed with the avenging ice

Devil didn’t claim me, my love

He knew without me, you can’t die

So here I am, watching you wither

with the pain that I gifted

Your dark eyes burn with passion

made sweet by maddening hatred

I stand by the heath

tired, soaked, shivering

near your window,

out in the blinding rain

I came home to you, torn

by the merciless wind.

Hold me in your arms forever,

Please let me in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

PS: Those who have read the "Wuthering Heights" will know that this poem is a dedication to Heathcliff and Catherine. For me, they define the word "Soul-mate".

I am re-posting this poem as most of my current readers have not read it... its always kind of embarrassing to read something you wrote years ago... but its one of my favourite.. so here goes :)

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Summer Night

The cotton t-shirt sticks to my back like a second skin. The heat is almost unbearable. Slightest hint of a breeze gives me goose bumps... making me feel alive, even for that fraction of a second. Like love. Ever been in love with someone who didn’t even know that you existed? Waiting for that one look, waiting for that one time when they would actually have a notion about your true feelings?

Just an observation.... before you jump to conclusions.

Being a writer has its perks... and at the same time, you are living 24x7 with a mind that simply won’t stop. Talking to you in your head. Making you look for undercurrents in relationships... and warning you of dangers that might exist just in your head.

And not to forget being judged when you write about the dark abyss of human mind. People wondering if you are a raging lunatic. Getting unwanted sympathies when you try to explore the realms of heartbreaks and what makes us hurt the people we care the most for...

Words and characters dance around in my head while I watch the city rush past. My fear of heights under control as I sit in the dark, perched on the banister of the nth floor. The roads are flooded with lights. somehow looking more alive in the night than it does during the day.

I think about the last two stories still floating around in my head... and I wonder... why do happy endings seem incomplete to me?

Is this the reason I haven’t been able to write them down?

they say things always become happy in the end... but do they?

Does a fairytale princess wake up one morning to realize that she didn’t actually intend to live in the castle. Or be a princess. Or be with Prince Charming?

What if all she wanted was to roam the moor...

what if she didn’t want to have pearls on her neck?

What if she wanted to go barefoot...

What if she didn’t like glass slippers?

Will the story still be worth telling? Or even more so?

-------------------------------

©2010 by Chhaya. All Rights Reserved

PS: as usual, I request you to read it as just a piece of writing. the image is googled.

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The Last Bus

Standing barefoot.
Barren, huge crossroad.
They say it stops here,
the bus you are on.

Clutching, the doll you gave me
on my birthday the year before.
I try not to stain it –
for my hands are
bleeding from the sores.
knees skinned to the bones shake a little
cruel, lonely it was –
the road from home.

Biting my lips, to stall the pain
burying my face in the doll –
there is still that smell of you
the fragrance of safety,
the mirage of childhood.
Inhaling,
just a bit.
Too greedy to save it all.

It starts to rain
and I feel so cold.
Proud, defying – waiting.
I stand my ground
not for victory but to
hide my shame.
The tears
drown me a bit more.
There is nothing left,
even my shadow is impure.

Its getting darker
the birds are all gone.
I watch other kids, just like me but –
jumping all the way to their homes.
Some stand and stare at my rags
laughing at my doll.
Mock my dirty feet -
but my eyes, they all ignore

And then I am left alone,
at the crossroads
just like the evening before.
I am scared now–
wont you come back for me?
the last bus from heaven,
doesn’t stop here anymore?

© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

I wrote this poem more than a year back. I didn’t have enough readers back then so I am re-posting it.

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Sisters

She watches the little one,
looking out of the window.
The worn out doll,
clutched tight.
Too young to understand, yet
deep within, does she know?

Her heart aches more than her arms,
cradling the kid all night long.
Having to grow up in a moment,
her own childhood gone.
The tears remain unshed,
for ever and more.

"Can you call mommy again?
She should be home by now."
Innocent eyes look up to her.
Trusting the world’s
convenient lies.

She tries to hold her close
and whisper the truth,
as it should be told.
"She won’t answer the phone, little one.
Mom is not coming home anymore"

© Chhaya


image by William Adolphe Bouguereau (Two Sisters)

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The Nightmare

One more day..
One more smile..
I live in that place, between
dawn and the daybreak.
Trying desperately,
to stall the time.
Stolen moments..
too fragile for dreams.
Wrapped in your arms,
watching you sleep

Shy, the rain giggles,
caressed by
the lovelorn wind.
I blush, watching
the lines of your face..
and the smile on your lips.
Your heartbeats,
talking to my fingertips.

Shadows rustle,
monsters insane.
Pulling me away,
from you yet again.
I close my eyes,
too scared to scream.
And then I feel you,
whispering so softly -
“Hush my baby,
it’s just a bad dream”

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

This is my 25th poem on this blog (counting the haiku efforts as 1 poem). I was going to post a different one, but then thought that the silver jubilee thing shouldn’t be too dark. Thank you everyone, for being such good friends... This one is for you all...

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The Little Girl by the Highway

She was found by the highway,
dumped like a rag .
Bloodied and mauled.
Stripped and flayed.

Bile rises to the throats,
they count her wounds.
But who will pick up the pieces..
of her dismembered soul?

Candy wrapper in her hair..
and dead dreams in the vacant eyes
"Where was my dad last night?" - they ask
"Why didn’t he hear my cries?"

Flashbulbs scream..
and the headlines are relayed.
Kinder than the world,
the vultures keep away.

They bury her five summers..
and her favourite doll.
Lowering her gently,
in the tiny hole.

Watching the new arrival ,
the dead die yet again .
Screaming, they ask aloud,
is this how the Angels are slain?

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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Of Hope and Despair

It starts with a touch
Warm, lazy winter noon
You are near, somewhere
in my heart, in my soul
My eyes feel heavy,
the dream so tempting
Feeling your breath on my eyes
Tears unshed, ecstasy of suffering

Holding back,
wishes untamed
Waiting for the years
A moment a day
My fingers, feel your smile
and my heart feels your pain
You wish I would ask even though,
I know you can’t stay

Counting, clinging on to the moments,
before I let you go
Close enough for whispers
Too far to touch
And I wish, sometimes
In the moments of weakness
I wish I couldn’t hear your heartbeat
Wish I didn’t know what goes on inside


I hear you leave, before you let -
me out of your arms
The wind falls silent
tip-toeing in the distance
Shy twilight – scared to touch
Empty canvas
Darkness covers me for the ritual
Another night of frost

.................................
©Chhaya

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The Perfect Lover

Waking up to the magic
tormented with the need
eyes still dreamy , in each fibre
of my being, I feel
Your smell, ever so divine,
kisses me softly
makes me go weak in my knees,
makes me smile


Desperate for your warmth
touching my lips so tender,
soothing my nerves
my heart beats, just a bit faster
You make me alive
melting the pain
the sun shines brighter
when you burn through my veins


My reflection told me,
it was meant to be
The color of my eyes,
always belonged to thee.
Ripped from the life
Burnt for pleasure
Crushed by the world
the pain sets us free


You give me shelter
through the days so cruel
and keep me alive
in the nights insane
I am holding you close,
as the moon washes over me
Is there a lover like you
my dear cup of caffeine?

© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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Insomnia

The cruel clock
drags slowly to half past one.
Two tiny white pills..
I cling on to my weapons.

Pillow cold as ice
heavier than wet unyielding rock
soft, white, moonlit bed
a mound of broken glass

The solitary streetlight
makes the shadows
dance on the ceiling
to the tunes of melancholy

Caressing my brow with love
the Angel of pain bathes
in the splendor
of deafening silence

“Rest is for the weak”,
she whispers
and gifts me
another night insane.


© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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Soulmate

Counting the years..
mirror in my hand,
I searched for you..
my shadow.

Closing tired eyes..
I kissed you my love,
as I walked with a smile..
living, performing the lies.

I try laugh so hard..
and make it look real,
they smile back ..
think they know how I feel.

I pick up the thorns..
from the velvety night,
as your fingers..
touch her ever so light.

Scalded by the moonlight..
I reached out to you,
just stop the morning..
don’t leave my dream tonight.

With the silence of my eyes..
in the whispers of the dawn.
A lifetime and a moment..
I waited for you


© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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All I Wanted for Christmas

Dark scary December night
Cold. Dry. Miles long
Eyes full of pain, lips wearing a smile
"For you my baby ", you said, "I will fight "

Keeping your promise
you fought on
Long days, full of pain
Longer nights, when I sat by your side

Your hands, growing cold, kept me warm
"I am scared ",
clutching you,
I whispered in the dark

Smiling the pain away,
You asked in the voice so faint
"It’s a week to Christmas,
What do you want for that day? "

I had so much to say,
you had so much to hear
I never got to tell you,
I wanted to look like you one day

The angels were arriving, the sky turning a faint blue
So many wishes I had
But all I wanted for Christmas,
was you.


© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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