Sandeep Kulshrestha's Poetry

Unpretentious. Rough Trade. Umbrella of lust. This love. Overrated. Juxtaposed. Termite. Eats your fire. This love. Charred by the depths of obsession. Undeterred. Makes you free. And Chained. And Maimed. And Smoked. And Stoked. This love. The soreness of tenderness. The raspberry tears. Sleuth of breathlessness. Violently posh. Incredibly diabolical. This Love.

It is all about the hidden pact A light hearted creation of thought jugglery My platonic determination Is a deterrent From falling in love with you In my sober dreams, however I do not have finer controls Over my lustful dungeons There I may fantasize Holding your hand And a glass of fine champagne on the other And the cascading dance makes us come closer And touch each other’s trembling and fragile emotions And it doesn’t end there As emotions are contagious I make soft love to you all through the night And then the dream breaks Into the daily trajectory of Life I love you to the hilt, An expression that I cannot bring into ignorant words But it is of a different kind The kind when a ingenious intense bond Doesn’t die There are boundaries Not created by anyone But we are by choice abiding this invisible facade And I love being bounded by This sophisticated bond That is forever This wall acts like a machine That dissects reality Into chunks of swee...

The colours lay stilll at the surface of the shades of emotions and I could draw contours of pain in the shadows of agony when I used the metaphor of trust you defined it by a succinct analogy when you said that betrayals are just myths and you betrayed my thoughts When I see hope dwindling I see the beauty in nothingness even if you are not around here when I have self-philosophical dialogues on love and hope, trust and betrayal, I still know that the innocence that you show is for real Love cannot be subjugated to definitions Trust is just a word after all

Gulabi taaseer hai gulabi mazhab hai aaj rang ka jashn hai, har jashn main gulabi rang hai (Pink is the impact, pink is the religion today is the celebration of colours, every celebration has pink in it) She brandishes her beautiful, all white pure teeth and smells of fresh wind that a sudden shimmery summer brings when you are in shade this verse is all about pink and her eyes reflected the color in many ways, Some you cannot imagine I am platonically mesmerized “je suis hypnotisé” as they say in French The strawberry season tried it’s best But I prefer her nonchalance today and the jazz at the café finds the pink melodies from the ramparts of my closed emotions I am surely smitten of an eternal self In the vivid imagination of the unknown karmic world She holds my hand and we see pink and orange skies Different colors Play around the bonfire of togetherness Her eyes play with the Texture of my thoughts The curio...

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...

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...