Sandeep Kulshrestha's Poetry

The trajectory of your joys go through the compost of unlimited smiles, nostalgic roads and the chords of love if I have to chronicle  the metaphors that speak of your calmness I may have to sleep hungry or remain satiated without food Your subtle intelligence is the food for my soul I just look at you, talking and being joyful in the words your reveal it is like a sensual romance with the language you restore through your curious, glasses framed eyes and a charm of innocence Your lithe frame the feather light persona and the unbound tranquil energy if it isn’t a template of effervescence nothing else can be as the theme of my verse is “joy” it is a visual, sensory and imagery delight when it comes to being with you or while feeling that feeling of closeness even when you are physically in a different plane or emotionally even in divergent thoughts Having said so Can I translate in few words? You give a new mea

She crosses many paths And the Sun is down Her hands are curious Laughter reverberated with ease The sound of a window opening Sky is lit Love, an enigma She looks at her glasses Who is smiling now? Richness of the emotions The eyes look benign Realm of endless thoughts Great is the morning The book falls She touches her mind

I hate to say it but I say it nevertheless that I get cynical in thinking that I may be in love with you this story that I build has a history to it when I remember abstract things like the movement of your eyes when you looked at your favorite dessert while it rained I believe that it would not be love of the template, of the notion of what it is to be in love Merely contemplating and being nostalgic are the constructs of deep attachment, perhaps is it love then? or just a passing phase or a yearning just to see your face? I have many other reasons to say that it could not be love as I am still searching the real meaning in knowing who am I If I am lost, what is love? Is anyone capable of truly loving? You are surely inspiring me to write these words this serendipity is baffling on one hand I am still thinking and being cynical and on the other I am transformed into endless thoughts of calmness and compassion when I think of you will I

My coffee chides me a kind of motherly triviality as if I was born to see caffeine as a lullaby Piano sounds on the earphones and mind drifts to the childhood of glasses of milk, bland omelettes, ophthalmological problems and power cuts old houses of memories of Eastman color frames pale sunlight and now, the coffee coffee is a healer from blind dates to old age cynicism it seems like acting on some nerves even though I may love the capabilities or the taste of the tea coffee reminds me I am getting older and crispier the rustiness of my affair with this brown drink tunes me inside somewhere the dark clouds outside the windowsill and the coffee starts melting me within

I miss your gargoyle laughter deep throated, vocal cords high and the voice that had a resonating charming quality and I miss the way you would create funny acts in the play of life whether there were dark clouds, shades of serendipity or the pains of limitless proportions I miss the way your eyes dance not static as mine would be they would wonder towards the curious realm sometimes on a page of the book you would read and mostly outside the window towards the afternoon lull your eyes tell eternal stories of past pain and all the rest your abhorrence towards me now is kosher and instinctive it talks about your love that has broken into fragments my ways had been reckless and decadent and I accept that I shouldn’t have said what I said I know it would be too late now I miss the times of enchantment and I wish to be the earlier me Without you, the world around is just a routine masquerade sounds of cars honking, t

Iniquitous differences apart or whatever sets me in I meet her when I start the fire She gives me a wholesome peck and not so mellow trespass of a kiss the lips cannot swallow the heat I hold her and I see her melt I upstart another thaw and we celebrate temporary-ness this is the moment of infectious insanity and of intense touches of the soul Over beer mugs. I watch her move around creative with the taste making her move makes me hold her hands and make her melt with the rejoice of lust Am I wicked? and the raging fire Stalls the insights Of facade of life as we know it All barriers get shackled I get situationally aligned Into the rapturous merger I rise with her And the hungry souls use the bodies, transitionally clothes are not the barriers and the fire rages higher I meet her and we make beautiful love The trance Is happening now and when I look out of the window the clouds are up

Leonard Cohen sings waiting for the miracle while I get a message and my life gets broken she says that she can’t fathom knowing me and my foibles henceforth the words war was my subconscious fallacy I could not convey that it was a different me sitting in a lonely corner of a heated parapet while I said something to terrify her trajectory, with me and Cohen sings, You wouldn't like it here There ain't no entertainment And the judgments are severe I didn’t have to say What I said the other day I didn’t have to measure up my words to say something I did all I did was trying to play safe and I ended up hurting my space I was some actor on a play where the audience dreamt of a lost plot The message was clear from her side I am the bedrock of her hate and I deserve the fate of surreal accusations, and the desolate acceptances I don’t deserve her in the notion of my life which has more half-truths than fanta

I am so lame   and insane   I give up my defenses   and bruises   yes,  they eventually hurt   when I say this to her   this is what I fear   when I walk the altar of hopelessness   some  amiable voice echoes   and I am back to the non-detached me   trying to relate   with what is not me   Dejection and  humiliation  are words   with some men made meaning   I don’t have words to say   on what I feel   In Finnish, the word is “ nöyryytys ”,   for humiliation   and it is just a word   my soul shreds   and you see it   When I walk out in this    smelting summer night   with all these conflicting echoes   all I hear is just noise   the day I tear it apart   It all becomes so vocally loud   I thought she understood   but that idea is    so overrated   shall I stay away from her?   Is she there?   I see the other side of her   and