Time Again

There is no stopping time

No turning back or

Jumping ahead the needles

There is no stocking

No transferring of it.

It is yours if you

simply relate to it

Else it simply adds

To the wistful moments

We called life

Tick-tock as the clock

Unleashes end in

Every beginning of

This new moment.

To feel time again

Rising from death

Embrace dark space

And time is real again

  • sahar

Love up to you.  

While I slip by 

Your jousty curves 

And your silver pearls 

I will fall in 

With your straight eyebrows. 

I will give in 

To your soft touch. 

If you stop me 

By your hurtful moan 

I will be your wolf 

You be my moon. 

While I erase 

Your older deeds 

Give me new sins 

To remember you by. 

While I condense 

This time to you 

You give me my 

Moments of eternity. 

I never entail 

What your feet cover 

I only wander 

In the sense of your hair 

It’s shining 

Her skin is fair. 

If I stole 

A look from you 

Glance me all day 

While I glance you. 

Through your night shades 

Give me your dusk 

Since the morning of love

Till the night of lust. 

If I divide 

In the line of your curves 

And seldom appear 

In the curve when you smile 

Consider this 

It takes a while to live up to you. 

My Muse

Her silence,speaks volumes
In a symphony, like a tune
her anger says she loves hard,
her actions reveal her heart

Her fire measures her warmth
her eyes speak her story
she marks her presence faintly
committing her crime so saintly.

Her touch has lingered,
and it talks on about her
longing to feel once more,
the way she made me feel before.

Her laughter echoing,
Has left behind a smile
Now she is gone and I realise
That nothing anymore is worthwhile.

– Mayank ‘Sahar’ Mishra

The Last Season of Love

She held my heart till the very end,
crushing it since the moment I gave it
my heart, a broken machine, held in glass
hurt her soft palm and thin fingers,
the blood from my heart, combined
with the blood from her veins..
our minds tricked us far away
from each other’s gravity
but our hearts, faithful drums,
still beat and bleed the same..

                                    – sahar 

Lost Hearts

Poetry is not an easy task. It is like learning to beat the storm when you are stuck in its eye. 

“And one night
When he and she were fast asleep
Their hearts armed with love
Gathered upon a pact to keep
Their bet on who loved harder
His heart talked till tire
Hers was a silent desire
Slowly the return to the start
When she was all fire
And he, only a silent desire
On the way back, the two humbled hearts
Forgot the way
And now
Hers beats in him
and his inside her.”

        – sahar 

The Girl of my Poems 

There is a girl who gives me poems
In the night or early morning
I hear her silent whisper
Calling my soul away from
The night to the lovely dawn

The girl she gives me my poems
She is a distant dream
No phrases can match her
No metaphors or similes
Let her float in the skies
For another eerie night
The girl with the words of my poems
Her magic is violent
A collision of galaxies
Like my thoughts are dust
Her breath is the light in stars
The poet in me is free as
Her touch varies in degrees
The girl like the words of my poems
She left me no rule to follow
Making and unmaking me again
A silent trail of woven words
Like petals strewn on the roads
To the palace where she rests
A path the poet must take always She is the girl of my poems.

Charles Bukowski

I am glad I met him, as one poet who meets another.

For The Foxes

don’t feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.
be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain
who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.
juggling mates
and
attitudes
their
confusion is
constant
and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.
beware of them:

one of their
key words is
“love.”
and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.
don’t feel sorry for me
because I am alone
for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.

they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

  • Charles Bukowski

In My Soul.

The material body is destructible
It will pass into the void soon
The ashes will remain behind.
Our dust will rise to the moon.
Our hearts and minds are small
But our souls are large enough
To speak directly to other souls
And then know silently that
Love never departs, it just evolves
From pleasure to pain and then
It slowly moves to define yourself
And it gives peace to know in my soul
That she loves me more than I can know.

   - sahar

She Found Me

She lifted the veil of her eyelashes to reveal the two most beautiful pearls in the world. Her hair looked like exquisite velvet laid out neatly. Her lips, like the petals of the most tender rose. Her voice like the whispering of breeze. Her mood like the evening melting into the night. When she spoke you often forgot to hear the words. The only thing to be done was to wait till the sweet voice filled your ears with comfort. When she laughed you could hear that it was real laughter and that her happiness spread around her. Indeed she is a flower whose fragrance precedes her arrival. It was only about her. There was nothing in me to be exalted upon except that I was lost and somehow she found me. 

   The relationship between two human beings is extremely complicated. If you found the person who can simplify that relation, you are lucky. There are no tags here, we all work on our instincts. When you hit it, you will know. It will change you. You might learn to decipher the meaning of it all a little bit if you are true to yourself. That is where true love lies, all else is harmones.

She was perfect for me.  
 – sahar. 
Featured artwork is contributed by Prabal Pandey.  

©PrabalPandey

   

If I was a Stray Dog

If I was a stray dog,
I would stray.
Without destination,
at strange places I would stay.
For long durations
And short intervals.
Travel as far as,
my all fours would take me.
Wag my tail at everything
that made me happy.
In a tourist’s picture
unknowingly I will smile snappy.
I would bark and bite
And run and hide.
Play and fight.
Be wild and cry
When in pain
I would seek
A human companion.
I would make friends,
lead the pack and follow,
Sometimes blindly and
in the lurking darkness
get chased by a bulldog.
I would lick and occasionally
Get kicked out from places
Where I am unwanted
Where people have still
Not discovered love or
The faith to live in a world.
Where you can sense
That animals too are alive.