Krishnanand Guptar Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

Written 4 September 2026 for Boulevard of the Beloved Poetry Contest sponsored by Ink Empress

In the Boulevard of the Beloved

in the boulevard of the beloved
       “I filled the night's chalice 
with knots of desire”
        each one a warm whispered promise
a frightful tightening of breath in the chest
       with the moon, a primrose pale witness
offering no seams of soothing solace
        only ruptured rays of reflection

stars, like silent scattered sparks
       woefully watched the slow burn
each knot a miming mustard memory
       a pale pompous phantom touch
a hot howling hunger that echoed
        painful possibilities unspooled
of a ***** quiet quirky ache
         that stretched across the hours

I drank it all with closed eyes
        this briny brew of blatant longing
until the first light of a golden morn
        began to fearlessly fray the edges
and the chalice, empty save for the echo
         settled back into the d
                                               a
                                                    w
                                                         n   

with the heart shattered to pieces like a mirror                                 
       “I learned to live unkissed”, uncaressed, unlipped
 until the quiet settled in my bones
        a soothing serene silence
 my lips, pale pallid maps of lore
         unexplored territories
  consciously waiting for no one

I built small worlds inside myself
       sheltered gardens where the only touch
was the brush of my own thoughts
        the dripping rain of my own tears

then, a breath of wind
       unexpected, carrying a sedative scent
I hadn't known ever before
        a gleaming glance, a lulling laugh
                 and the sweet soothing air shifted
my skin remembered a forgotten language
         a deep hum beneath the surface

and then
         a humming hesitancy, a soft sparkling
quirky question in the eyes
                   and the world outside leaned in
with my unkissed life, a closed door
     creaking open, filtering a lenient l
                                                            i
                                                               g
                                                                  h
                                                                      t
  
unlike stars that are silent spectators
       “the moon is an honest manipulator”
pulling the tides with a subdued strength
        making it swell, making it sigh.
no false promises, no whispered lies
        just the steady insistence of its glow

it paints the world in supple shades of silver
        a poor pale contender of daylight 
a patient passionate purveyor of dreams,
         but never peevishly pretends to be the sun
offering a different kind of gleaming light
           one that softens sharp snappy edges
reveals what the harsh glare hides
           in the boulevard of the b
                                                    e
                                                        l
                                                         o
                                                           v 
                                                             e
                                                               d.

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