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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.
Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.
The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
Pale crimson skies
Stretched beyond repair.
Clouds as scarce as life
Above the desert’s lair.
Upon the sarcous traces
Of the dusty morsels,
Rain from a wispy heart
Like drunken yodels.
From the parched sands,
Palatable scents diffuse.
It approaches, it taunts
The flesh cannot refuse.
The dead wind in its lullaby
Whispers vigorously to give in
The parched eagle shrieks
The rose is bloody from sin.
Remember the thorny cacti
Scorched by the wrath
Defence is no defense
Pain lies on that path.
The giver of verve
Gives not but mercy.
Famine fuels the force
The desert is testy.
The tunnels beneath the sand
Lead to worlds unknown
The edifice in the distance
Could it be a tombstone?
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
On the cold wooden chair I sit,
Writing rhymes of youth.
The voice in the distance,
Pronounces me uncouth.
The ticks of the clock,
Taunt me shamelessly.
When will the bell screech,
I ask repeatedly.
Webs of mindless words,
Scrawled upon the board,
Kill the soul within,
As the others only hoard.
If only I could memorize,
All the superfluous lies.
The rose bed in the garden
Must be trimmed and wise.
The ants and the maggots,
Must all have their share at the end.
I must return to the soil,
Hail the gardener, the godsend!!
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
There could be day when I won’t calculate
Or a moment when I would just be foolish.
I would forget my pros and cons on the car seat
And jump into the rabbit hole as I flee.
There could be an hour when the party lights stay on
And the conversations drown in shallow pools
Or I make mistakes that I regret
And endow a tear drop to my cheek.
There could be a time when I like the mirror –
A fleeting moment in which I really believe.
I would stop seeking answers in the stars
And looking for peace in deep oceans.
There could be a second when I am not me
And be unfaithful to control
Or shout praises of the devil from the rooftops
And carelessly sell my soul.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2011
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
From the sharp corners of the towering residence,
In perfect linear angles, the shadows slice the concrete path.
The blue party lights add ghostly vigour.
Brown hands toil, browned by rigour.
They dance around in rhythmic pandemonium
Through the murky cavities of the macabre residence.
Yet perfect silence prevails resolutely,
Stabbing vacuous corpses ruthlessly.
Through morning light they lie in deep slumber,
Fantasizing of animated times, now just tormenting rhymes.
And in the night, the foul feast begins again,
This is the festival of lights my dear men!
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
Whitewashed sterile walls enclose,
Cluttered fixtures and cluttered egos,
Layed to waste on the purgatorial carpet,
After the august ersatz banquet.
Yet sporadically in bouts of joy,
Benevolent souls oblige this toy.
Obscenely bright becomes mellow light,
And sterile walls vanish from sight.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
The stars shine down and smile and say,
He is gone now but he shall return one day.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
Enticing eyes hide secrets unknown,
Slicing a heart that I no longer own.
Endless talks which are chatter to some,
Upon eager ears are more than welcome.
Neither moon nor sun, neither spring nor rain,
Is fit to compare; each is utterly inane.
My pierced heart that longs for much more,
Shall gladly pine away with this fatal sore.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
May the dew drops in the morn
Quench the parched heart.
Oh Life, I am short of breath!
May the cool breeze in the morn,
Cleanse corrupted lungs.
Oh Life, I am short of breath!
May the chirpy birds in the morn,
Bring melody to deafened ears.
Oh Life, I am short of breath!
May the mild sun in the morn,
Restore strength to an aged shell.
Oh Life, I am short of breath!
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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Deepanshi Chaudhry Poem
Practicality is a cloak for the broken heart,
'Tis strange what all pain can impart!
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
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