Sandeep Kulshrestha's Poetry

I gift her shampoos, whole wheat flour, soaps and instant oats pencils and home food not porcelain mugs, vases or bouquet of fancy candies nor DVDs or moonlit nights it is my way of saying something that something is yet unknown to me or to my mind the word “something” is limiting “everything” has unlimited exposition she brings the gift of selfies with a face full of pain and tears much more than this she gifts me unlimited horizons of laughing over situations that are gifted to us she likes those gifts or that’s what she says she gives me love (not a cliché) of the kind that’s unimaginable it is beautiful than love itself although it is not love it is neither anything else she shows her recently shampooed hair and I see the scene in a slow motion and the aroma touches my nostrils and she washes her face at a tap in an open-air café and let the water dry, naturally she loves the coolness of the water and I look at...

Flushed skin  when the charm uplifts when she touches new spark of naivety The caress of triviality is not something she raves about or tracing the DNA of her passions she doesn't care for the lyrics or the music she unravels the deep trance of her passion the drunkard lover the curious seducer she does not fight back her emotions or rawness of a deep touch she translates the language of  trespassing in her intimate monologues as her own self she is pristine out of the fresh sunshine, into the wild her walk, her inconsistent chivalry her demands, her concupiscence  it is not she but the verve I desire her as she wants me to femme passionnée Play the music to accompany the thoughts of the poem by clicking here

Truth be told I do not necessarily love or trust flowers They become a poignant humming song for my poetry which is delusionary as it is emerging out of my love for you Few steps aside, there is a bloom let me say it this way on one side they bloom and sell me the free fragrance on the other side of this road is this tiny foliage of the greens and some signs of a lost lake and I see you with a perpetual freshness A music plays somewhere It sounds almost like a cliché I mean the music as if I am a part of a movie It is warm and seemingly romantic but you look at the flowers and feel safe a look of naivety of love and I know your heart It is you that I cherish not because the bougainvillea has bloomed your silent smile fleeces my heart and the flowers, well let us smell the air, for now the shade of Bougainvillea is proudly feasting on your lips and the Sun is shining sporadically on this serendipitous autumn ...

Her little self is an ocean of amorousness while she precipitates an avalanche of giving in all of the unwinding trajectories of being a consciousness of sorts a serendipitous journey where she meets the tumultuous path that intertwines nostalgia, love and lost desires her presence is pure bliss who dare not rise in love? I see her in a distance metaphorically but, stays somewhere very near it is undefinable yet true all of what heart feels and knows is not always explainable In my dream today morning when the dawn was still yawning I held her close while I smelled the dew the nervous and frozen petals of the rose suddenly were agile, blooming the winter morning sun kissed her cheeks while I was tempted to do so her murmurs broke my dream She crosses those paths which a selected few attempt she is a desire fugitive she is the smitten universe

I passed by our favorite café today morning  the place where food was uninspiring and the ever-smiling steward was Intimidating while nice, wanting us to leave as soon as we were done our strategy was different, however we couldn’t leave In a conversation vacuum that place had an art gallery although the art on display was to an extent, incorrigible and dark, kind of clumsy or many a times, superficial the art gallery is still there so is the steward the only thing missing is you and me, talking over the same uninspiring food your voice was invigorating nevertheless I used to watch you eat, while talking continuously those infectious voices loom large in my clever emotive mind the sounds of cutlery, the cafe music, the winter afternoons, your presence all of it certainly, in the complete histrionics Is what the heart transpired in all its innuendos all of the last month and more Your voice in all its trajecto...

Blueberries gaping out of a black and white mug chiseled scraped clouds dissemination of a halo Gloom! Persecution of a perspective Shallow intercepts of void the eyes don't pop up on wit Gloom! Smile or a facade? promiscuous promises no more churlish fantasies Gloom! With a bang of sorts exuberance of a victim vivid experiences of certainties Gloom! No voice that sounds like the ocean a vacuum in reason a virtuous moral man Gloom!

Smoked eyes gargoyle water philistine slanderous thoughts how clandestine things can be how candid my mind should be travelogue shining out the senses muddy decorum shady deals of illicit dreams desolate perfumed senses overtly burnishing the arousal on a dark by-lane of concupiscence my thoughts transforms you from reality to an thingamajig how powerful the need crisscrossing from a overpowering lust to a listless, emotive dissonance are you still lingering you need to sift hunger from a narrative of a daydream and you will traverse into rapturous being momentarily