Damsel in Distress

A stog tucked between the index and the center

She dragged her steps from the floor to the couch

A skimpy, shiny golden embraced the bosom

And black leather chinos, the long legs

Her luscious glossy lips let go of the smoke

As she flicked some ash on the floor

Her black long tresses ended at the round tush

She clicked her heels and left the club

The damsel wore the thickest kohl

Blood-shot eyes and a bottle of fine wine

A woman of class, quarantined

Still walking eye-to-eye

Transgressing each stare

She marched to a loft secluded somewhere

Broke the bottle on the floor

She crashed on her bed

Scribbled something on a paper abandoned

it read, "I don't like being alone,

you all ruined me when we were together
you disappointed me each time I tried"
The pen slipped off her cold, desolate fingers

Reached the ground and made a sound

The only sound in the room

That echoed for a while.

A Carnal Fervour

Tossing and turning

Up and around

Those bodies intertwined

Those lips whimper softly

As they fight for dominance

His tongue then travels a path

From the nape of her neck

Finding its way to the navel

It lingers along the breasts

With eyes those of a tamed lioness

She looks at him as he charges ahead

His burning eager advances

Melts her supposed rebellion

As she lies there with her legs spread.

Her sweet entrance he pampers

When his tongue penetrates inside of her

With her body turning numb she moans

Not feeling her thighs anymore

Wetness and hardness come together again

As those bodies exhaust in a carnal fervor

To the Fear of Self

Deprived of an ear to hear you scream
Drag yourself across the floor, to the hall

Consumed in your own darkness, you tussle

Tussle along the rugged path

Bleeding on the drudgery of everyday life

Having tried to blend in pastels and neons

Exhausting bottles of wine, every time you were let down

You sit with your lonely self, with no one to call

All you hear is your own voice

After a while, even that faints out

Suicidal, you try to pull the trigger

To put an end to the pain

But the trigger fails you just as well

For distrust took you down, consumed your soul and burped.

Red is for Love, Black is for Kohl

A snippet from my debut novel, 'Red is for Love, Black is for Kohl'
https://www.facebook.com/RedIsForLoveBlackIsForKohl

"My family is like any other Punjabi family. Mom, Dad, Arjun Bhaiya, my elder brother, Mishti, my younger sister, Beeji, my grandmother and Bauji, my grandfather.

Our vocal chords were a little more blessed than others.
While we could not lay claims to the family of the great Ustads of Lucknow, we could certainly imagine sharing some vocal kinship or connection with Dolly Bindra!"

Go get your copies at, http://www.infibeam.com/Books/red-love-black-kohl-priyanka-bhardwaj/9789382536093.html#variantId=P-M-B-9789382536093

Best,
Priyanka

Font 35

In every choke down your throat

In every outlandish thought you hide

In your meek smile

In those little blue eyes

In my lipstick stain at your forehead

In your last bite of pizza

In the little bread crumbs on your bed

I reside.

In your prayers sung and unsung

In your sip of warm coffee at the window pane

In the folds of the mattress on your bed

In the musk of your body, in your passionate advances

In your asking for blue but wanting red

In your love said and unsaid

I reside.

But,

In a message on your phone, font 35

Of an ‘I love you’ to someone blonde and white

In a kiss planted on her lips than on mine

In your sudden disposition form beer to wine

In removing the little notes I would leave on your wall

In your ruining my life, in your breaking my heart

In the spaces between your fingers filled by hers

In an unknown fragrance from your last hug

I have died.

Thirty Minutes

Quarter to nine
It started to drizzle
I stood there waiting
Waiting for a little more
Waiting for it to take me by storm
Literally too
Washing away the kohl in my eyes
Those little drops of rain, ran on my face
Slipping down the nape of my neck
Reaching my bosom, they tickled around the navel
Exploring places they haven't been to before
A few settled at the eyelids
Those he touched, kissed and took away on his lips
But I was waiting
Waiting for a little more
Waiting for him to take me by storm.

Quarter past nine
I lay nestled in his arms
After an ordeal thirty minutes long
His fragrance crawled up my body
Settling in my wet hair
Our skin by now was one
The hand of the clock had moved a one eighty
Those that were his, explored a three sixty round.

Deadlocked

A finger taps and then another

Recalling all you ever did, said, taught

The ear-piece lying astray gawks at me

Mocking my feeble advances and aggressive tears

Sunshine yellow and pristine white

A few dresses untouched, cursed

Burn them, do I?

That coffee table across the café cries

Asks me to leave

“You don’t belong here” as if it yelled

And I dragged my feet outside

Head hung low, abreast the nasty wind

I walk, keep walking, still walking

..And yet never walked past by.

Debut Novel

Speaking about my debut novel 'Red is for Love, Black is for Kohl'  tomorrow at the World book fair, Pragati Maidan!

Venue: Hall 1 A
Time: 5.00 PM- 6.00 PM
Event hosted by Lifi Publications.

Drop by?

http://www.newdelhiworldbookfair.gov.in/authorscorner.php