An Ode to Venus

You inspire love & lust, your anger riles.
Before cupid ever strung his bow,
You brought smiles (& tears)
To foolish young lovers not yet jaded,
By the vagaries of a life not yet lived,
Festivals held in your honour,
Before mortals decided to intervene,
Bring love forth to me again,
So that I may feel the cool summer breeze,
And the warmth of the autumn sun,
And the chill of an unexpected shower, upon my face,
So that I may feel once again.


Little Rat

Little Rat, trapped in the maze, 
Little Rat, what will you do? 
The paths all look the same. 
Nothings changed since the last time you came. 

Running out of hope, energy and faith, 
Maybe there’s a door, that closes just a little late.

Morsels you find here and there, 
But never the way out. 
You gather up your strength, but all in spite
There’s no respite.

Hope drains away, 
As does your life. 
The clocks ever ticking 
Day and night.

Little Rat, trapped in the maze, 
Will you ever escape the chase? 
Little Rat, why don’t you just lie down? 
Fall into a sleep, you need never get up from.

Yash Chheda


A motionless blur
Speeding blight

Even God himself cannot stay
This endless plight

Force upon force
A torrent so swift

Cutting the land
Plowing silt

The biggest towers
Razed into the dust

It’s happened before
This is not the first

Cradle of civilisation
Mighty and vain

Cutting at it’s core
All it’s children slain

Words will not prise
Those fallen souls

From the hands of fate
Nor will prayers untold

Society crumbles
Foundations fold

And all it’s relics of old
Swallowed whole.


-Yash Chheda

Innocence lost

Innocence Lost

(Photo: Daecho Park)

Endless bright
Glittering night
Seeds of elegance sown

Terrible sight
Fearsome might
The innocent bird has flown

Dreary day
Darkness plays
No place to call our own

Dusty shelves
Dainty bells
Do you hear the distant drone?

Falling dusk
Creeping rust
The evening filled with moans

Misfits all
Pretty doll
How the child has grown

Yash Chheda



This space I inhabit
Is neither here nor there
Hot and cold don’t exist here
Neither do dark and light

All encompassing, all embracing nothingness

There’s no logic more purer,
Though what it is I couldn’t say
This space is void
So I cannot show you the way
Emotions have their place
Though not here now
Now doesn’t really make sense,
What else is there?
Where will I escape to
When there’s nothing but me
There’s no despair
Neither hope, nor fear
For what needs are these
When they haven’t come into being
Timeless I could call it, eternal
Though there is no time

I am infinite
I am nothing
I don’t really exist
I simply Am


Yash Chheda

Lo!  Harken at the moon

Lo!  Harken at the moon

Not an unyielding mass of granite, 
Rather a fluid agent, like the rhythmic
Gently rising and falling tides

The antithesis to the sun, 
And just as indispensable

For how many sailors have navigated, 
By its cool still light on a clear sky
How many generations has it watched over, 
Of wolves, their presiding deity?

Just as the sun is man personified, 
Fierce, unyielding, scorching with
A fiery wrath

So is the moon the embodiment of the feminine, 
Cool, gentle, ever patient, ever loving

From the dry brush of the savannah,
To the farther most polar seas
It is known throughout the Earth 
By everyone man and beast
And Oaks and pines and conifers 
Though they have not eyes to see
Though they feel it’s cool warmth
Upon their weatherbeaten trunks

As the hot noonday sun beats
mercilessly upon my skin
The moon applies the salve, soothing 
Preparing me for another day of toil

Even as the sun graces not
Certain parts with its gilden light, 
The ever changing, ever gentle Goddess Luna
Heeds everyone, mighty and slight.

– Yash Chheda

As the endless night beckoned…

As the endless night beckoned, 
Enveloping me in it’s cold embrace, 
One thing kept me sane, 
A glimmer of hope, of grace, 
That when the morning finally came, 
I would have the chance to peer, 
Into the deep fathomless pools that are your eyes, 
And as I looked at the sunrise, 
A nameless elation did arise, 
And I looked upon your face, 
Wiping out the cold night’s last remaining trace.

– Yash Chheda