your eyes are water-channels never be-
-fore-seen by the travails of my body,
your hands are grains on a dried river-bed
that haven’t felt what it is to be dreaded
with a precipitating desire for
such soft/silken/smooth meridians — i laugh
away your hesitant touch, as if di-
-vided by a barrier of evergreen trees.
the epicenter of this tremor lies
in your heaving chest, and your soft cries
are the lingua-franca of this land,
dense with ligatures of our limbs: misaligned —
we meet at the estuary of our dreams,
our faultlines eroded by limited means.
.
© Anmol Arora
A broken/battered sonnet for my prompt this week for dVerse Poetics (On Geography), where I have shared verses by Whitman, Bishop, and Ammons, to inspire the poets and prompted everyone to inculcate geographical themes in their writing. Do not forget to visit and participate. Also, I am linking it up with The Tuesday Platform at With Real Toads.
HA's Place 
There’s a quality of innocence in this unabashedly sensual that feels both like a memory and present tense at the same time. An estuary seems like a very well suited metaphor.
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“The circumstances are bad, we are not the bad ones”
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“your hands are grains on a dried river-bed that haven’t felt what it is to be dreaded,” this is incredibly characteristic of craving and at the same time harboring the fear of treading into unknown or foreign territory. The poem speaks volumes about the speaker and his experiences.. I can sense shades of love, lust, pain and also adventure all of which lend us experience. Each one makes us more wise and strong as we stare into the eyes of the horizon. Arz kia hai .. ❤️
“ishrat-e-qatra hai dariya main fanaa ho jana
dard ka haad se guzarna hai dawa ho jana.”
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The flicker of interest has gone wild
Unable to devour it
The fleeting glimpse at each other intensify Stodility
The flinty attitude towards me has been so Scurrilous!
Please don’t walk away
I’m tired of being Rigorous
I won’t repudiate my faith
You cant walk away like that
The excruciating pains is in bundles
Don’t be full of desirability of riches
Their moves are supersonic
You are my blessing
Given to me on a silver Platter
Please don’t walk away!
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The very erosion of eroticism that keeps me coming back! So well done.
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A beautiful broken/battered sonnet, Anmol, and I love the title. There are some stunning metaphors in this poem, especially: ‘your hands are grains on a dried river-bed’ and the lines:
‘…and your soft cries
are the lingua-franca of this land,
dense with ligatures of our limbs’.
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Sensuality interwoven with metaphors that only enrich the poem. So very nicely done. Wow!
Pat R
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The shattering of the sonnet adds to the emotional power. Clever to have form and content work together like that.
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I really love what you did with a broken sonnet here, the way you used geography to describe the intimacy (maybe broken too) is stunning.
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Nice line and sound: “he epicenter of this tremor lies”
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exploring new terrain so exquisitely here
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One day I shall read a poem of yours and not be surprised at your original word choices 🙂
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I’m always jealous of such beautiful poetry. My poems are stuck in forms at this point in my life. I want to break them into pieces some days, but find comfort in the rhythms of forms that have become friends. I echo many of the sentiments previously stated–quite stunning.
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A broken, battered sonnet! How wonderful. Such lush metaphors. That final couplet gives it a timeless, dreamy feel.
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What a quantum leap from geography to lusty topography! Great metaphors!
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Wow, your lusty bold and broken sonnet uses the geographic terminology in a very original and creative way. The results blow my socks off
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This is excellent Anmol! It combines the ethereal sensual world with tactile earthiness of nature. A celebration of the senses…
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This is so creative…it is rich with sensual emotion…beautiful
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I love the bold passionate voice of the line breaks in sonnet form. The ending couplet sums it all beautifully.
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kaykuala
we meet at the estuary of our dreams,
our faultlines eroded by limited means.
You could make serious matters look so acceptable. Volcanic eruptions and the hot lava flows are serious and frightening!
Hank
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Your poem brought memories of a John Mayer song, “Your Body is a Wonderland!”
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That is a sad poem, isn’t it… even that – precipitating desire for
such soft/silken/smooth meridians- so beautifully innocent seems to know such grief.
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Your approach to the sonnet is inspiring, and I must say that no one else I read these days has quite the art of writing of physical passion as you do. I am in awe!
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To discover the beloved’s body is topography, and love is geology, the tectonic truths of slow heart and sure heat. Great writeup for the challenge. Elizabeth Bishop was all about knowing where you were (and out-singing it), and Archie Ammons could even celebrate the contours of a landfill (“Garbage,” 1993)
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When two geographies meet and blend they make their own map. (K)
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“are the lingua-franca of this land,
dense with ligatures of our limbs: misaligned”
Love the music in these lines….all those L’s
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“we meet at the estuary of our dreams,
our faultlines eroded by limited means.”
Such beautiful lines in this poem!
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Nicely penned. I live the unique breaks in the words. It somehow makes the whole thing more tentative and uncertain.
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I like this, I had thought of a similar response but went with what arose strongest 🙂
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What a lovely broken/battered sonnet! 🙂
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a fine closing couplet ~
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A very sensual and erotic poem. There’s a bit of touch and go here. Almost seduced and wanting to give in, but held back by fear or pain. I like the geography of body and passion.
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I love the feel of this as I read it, it is very nicely done.
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