Kislay Chauhan - Five Poems

Afternoon Desert 

Tides in absorbed sunlight, dry sand desert
Whitish glare, seeking mirror boats
Where time is dried, moments sweat
Music in flames, days on the roots
Dewdrops of morning search shadow
Where sun is more leaned, cleaned but hard
The outsized branches, curvy eyes of leaves
Stony feet the sharp fingers digging surface
The labors with spades mining the place
Small spiders with sewing tensing wounds
Blocking airs impelling to breath high
With black and white scenes and sky
Turning years of hooks and scissors without rain
Striving bones, sore throats of birds and beasts
And then steady rocks of bronzed silence
Little weeds the waiters of years
And no one dares, no one hears
Only the tails of trees bounding water
Spongy blue ribs spread out of chest
The boats only mirages peeping far away
Forever a mirage alone never gets any meet
Dazzling waves decorate them hanging mirrors
The last storm all forgot but still the signs there
Desert fencing borders far of the crowds
Where only cheerful nights smile
And afternoon songs are tired unto evenings
When all the stars dine together
On sand-sheet, sand with resting eyes



An Old Age

A mechanical heart, desolated
Standing solemn around weaving silky water
Water of eyes, inveterate healer
On grass of sorrow by wind directing ways
Lifted breath burden on the lungs
Frightened gazes of nerves hugging heart
Dripping sights of memory in front of legs

The day of last heartbeat of his words
Dissolving in fog of all directions,
Peeping shadows of memories from cloak
Someone almost lost the grace of life
And somewhere pulses thunder to get out
Rotten skin with blooming sights and spirit
The layers of irregular breath stiffened

Where every valley is not straight to cross
Distinguished desires without any complaints
Certain limping stick in hand for way
Every step, summing up a journey
Dull head, digging shoulders, wide glasses
Which seems something binocular badges
Lost quartz of teeth, shrugging expression

Occasional smiles filling lonely times
He just needs help to cross that road
And lakes of sorrow and solitude
And listening last seasonal singing of birds
Every step with folding calm days in arms
Preaching eyes of life need assistance of love
An old man carrying belief of life, belief of life



Seashore Witness

Slowing prints, waves take a walk
With numbed faces for one end
Once again looping fear was formed there
Over still eyes of snails by offshore wind
Some striding crabs around coastline
Tear-stains the patches by seaside
Along wet sand I would like to retire
Stillness of darker truth and my life
The misty colors in straight sun strings
Inaudible songs of seagulls and seabirds
A misty silence, a moving street
The drops steal my back footprints
Two lonely rooms, my soul, my shadow
Over and over, many times through my breath
Thick peeling off earth’s surface under feet
Setting up a dream-house through seashore
A single dream, floating with every ray
Rising different gleams, different dreams
Over and over till end to end
A breezing ghost, with siren sound by ears
And in far away blue waves
Binders of my breath—
Many things unsolved there spread stones
The diaphanous destinations change stations
With every tide, with every wobble
A dried log of life witness there from years
Broken both sides and dubious eyes
That was the last meeting with that log
At that last night, when dreadful wave came
Then all witnesses were ended forever



Face of The Nature

A painted face of nature, flashing sun
Feeble walks of days and nights on the face
Eyes the trees, mountains of different shapes
Our visionary guides for our journey

A little temple appears in dawn and dusk
Holding life to show us god for every question
Sounds of small bells bounded in the temple
A brilliant echo of nature and its voice

Street lights the stars for night to dream
The sleeping nature with a guard, the moon
A fortnight duty of moon caring all the ways
By tender lullabies of breeze and sea-waves

Smile, the rivers with radiant water and falls
Hairs the fringes and fragrance of the flowers
Forehead the horizon, emotions rise and set there
Ears of temples, churches and mosques where

Elusive brows of sun and moon rays on eyes
Watching shyness with garden of red roses
The attempting joy and sorrow, gardens and grays
Anger seems little creepy with craters and bays

Foggy sights and seasonal feeling ever-changing
Snowing teeth when eyes raining or autumnal hair
Beautiful nature different in different regions
But same in all aspects, to care, love and inspire



Heart Of Wood

Somewhere a box filled emotions
Of wood, built round bit for life
Different cherishes keeping in
Supplying sets of dreams’ belief
A lock of ego, anger and hate
With key of help, kindness and love
The sides varnished with tender
A sort of wood flinching in fear
Slanted, corners of silence, spiritual
Stiffing to ground, burns in fire
Fire of love, hurt and desires
Wrapping cloths of seasons boiling
Lonely narrow boxes...
Strange boards made of wood
Devouring colors of surfaces
Edges broken, steeping to ground
An old tomb, with torn boundary
A monument lasts for a breath
Breath that unlocks lock, loneliness
Wooden box, clouds, rains and keys
Sunlight heals it up, an artifact
Parallel conditions, stars run above
May be one day, we put it as monument
Lonely, only memory of old swarms
When it used to have everything
Heart of wood, now in a museum
Motionless, a show for strangers
Having life, all of wood, to be painted
Or to be burned to warm some





Kislay Chauhan is a computer engineer, 25 year old, He has written four poetry books “ Takhir,” “The Vague,” “Once And for All” and “The Edges of The Spirit."