The ballad of hazardous (or blissful) cascades of emotions

Sometimes the illusion of a happening happens

sometimes the emotions roll over

sometimes the pathogens of spilled over desire

sabotages the pilgrimage of the heart

sometimes it is good

to divert attention

towards the non-attentive nerves

sometimes it is okay to be

what we are

sometimes it is really a exhilaration of the existential to be

in those moments of rapture

where time ceases to exist

and you and me measure the moment

through a deeper turmoil of being alive

sometimes it is good to fall

sometimes the brain functions paralyzes

and the raw nerves get pricked up

sometimes we gain our sanity

by responding to the deep trance

of the emotional

and the physical

Sometimes we need to paraphrase guilt

when love envelopes our being,

there is an absence of guilt

and presence of something divine, something which cannot be deciphered,

defined or

even transferred to someone else's

perspective

What happened was something

that would have happened in a dream

Sometimes there is a need

to live the dream

Comments

Rise with you

When the sun stretches its golden arms, and the morning whispers your name, I think of you, steady as the tide, warm as the hearth, a beacon in the quiet storm. Your laughter, a melody that dances through the chaos, a song I hum when the world grows heavy. Your spirit, unyielding, a tree rooted deep, its branches reaching for the infinite sky. In your presence, I am more. Not because you fill me, but because you remind me of the light I carry within. You are the mirror that reflects the beauty I often forget. Together, we are a symphony— not perfect, but alive, each note a testament to the joy of being seen, of being known. You are my safe harbour, my compass in the wild, my friend, my love, my vista And when the night falls, and the stars blink awake, I will rise with you not above, not below, but besides, always besides, in the quiet grace of this boundless love. And when the night descen...

Morning Walk

I was smitten by the silence of the dawn, or perhaps it was the dew that clung to the grass like a secret too fragile to speak. The trees stood tall, their leaves whispering stories of nights spent wrestling the wind, and I thought it was just me but the sparrow, too, carried the weight of its nest, the ant its crumb, the spider its web, each thread trembling with the burden of holding on. The sun rose, not with a fanfare, but with a quiet insistence, pushing through the haze like a hand reaching for a forgotten name. A butterfly brushed past, its wings a flicker of pale yellow against the orange sky, and I thought it was just me but the flower, too, had its petals to unfurl, its nectar to offer, its brief, bright moment in the sun. The path stretched ahead, winding through the shadows and the light, and I thought it was just me but the earth, too, had its cracks to mend, its roots to...

Is it love of a decadent kind?

The fact that deep down within me is a desire to be a philosopher doesn’t go down so well with what I feel as down and out human and I am in that mold now as I stop for a while and think of her She makes me appear as a lover when we cuddle up our emotions together and in the hazy shades of the day when she needs to drowse the fires of her insecurities I become her mother I don’t think I interchange the roles by choice every moment is undisclosed and beautiful even though chaotic When I dream of her we lose our inhibitions in the wildest of ways in the morning when I talk to her, I become her friend, again And, I do not touch her but we bare our soul, as naked as it can be and just after that emulsification of minds I become her soul-mate never to be apart in a non-worldly sense Surely there is an attraction Sometimes sublime and immaculate sometimes too boldly honest Sometimes a sinful construct W...

Sandeep Kulshrestha's Poetry

Search This Blog