the pleasure of selfhood

it is falling like a sun-pigment, down
with three-eyed cues to evoke sentiments,
bringing the yellow with orange with brown,
and the toil of ball-clay-modeled laments.
it drinks the warmth and bathes in lasting sin-
full holds of my fine-textured, genteel hands.
it is the hue that pigments my blotched skin,
and reminds me of the last rain’s soaked sand.

it is the sheath to my patterned truths — pain
that rests and rumbles in wakeful sleeping.
it is the ferrous wonder of force — gained
with a compliant resolve for melding
hopes and despairs with an equal measure,
and dreaming of an eve’s ochrous pleasure.

.

© Anmol Arora 2018

A sonnet (Shakespearean rhymes, sans iambs) for With Real Toads’ Weekend Mini Challenge
Image source (Subtle Ochre by Raju Durshettiwar)

***

I have been working on a new Insta handle for over a month now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
For contact, you can reach out to me through my multiple profiles, enlisted here.

setting

.

the centerpiece —

pvc ceiling, lilac. honey-
mustard edging across daft
corners, hibiscus’ death of
colors, trimmings of desire
into drunk deals ~

~ wait it out. it turns blade-grey
and coughdrop-red, sequent-
ially, hear that song of bro-
ken lines & fickle curves
of the gluteal

 — enfold,
when it turns bloody
and swift – breaks,
blues, gallows, dies –

.

Image source: Dutch Interior II, Joan Miro

Linking it up with Poetry Pantry at PU.

unity of colors

I never saw the colors in fragments,
could never steal one away from another,

the red sharpens my eyes into a belief
that tomorrow will be a new sky
of blue.

I got blue shoes today, with a hint of red,
quite allowing my navy shorts to stand out,
I wonder if they would go with the green ones.

I walked into the play of the clouds and the sun,
the grey teasing the bright yellow and orange,
butterflies cross my vision, I grab invisible webs
clinging to my body, they are colorless and
out of reach.

there was a time when I used to look around for
a rainbow after the dull rains, but never could find one.
now, I know that it is everywhere, in the light,
in the shadow, in the hills, in the meadows,
it’s everywhere, this unity of our changing times.

and I wear all these colors around me at once.

.

A plain one, with some colorful symbolism, for Poets United Midweek Motif.

Image source: Rainbow Color Art by Sandra Illing

Scream

The Scream by Edvard Munch

night sheds its wings-
a silent scream is heard
in dawn’s deep breath

~

pronounced
by the scream of a lost mind-
colors on dusk’s canvas

.

Two different images in two unconventionally written haiku, for my prompt at Heeding Haiku With HA, where we are seeking inspiration from the famous piece of art by Edvard Munch, pondering over various interpretations and coming up with our own images to depict what we feel and see. Do come along and share with us this week.

Trespassing all the way|_|As Existence Glistens

trespassing through a body made up of

jungle leaves, water weeds, fossil prints,

I engender a whole history in me, of rock

archives of gullible paints, of guitar riffs

eternally hovering in layers of time, but

.

then I am a trespasser, just passing by

(though sometimes it seems like a very

long distance, and other times, it is

just so short, like an old pair of socks)

today I am, tomorrow someone else

who would make the skin crawl all over

once again, because cowardice is true

and nothing else, in this banana peel

that you slip over as if its your own life,

that you can hitchhike anytime, I do so

in my dreams finding the end in blood

(fearsome.. ain’t it.. what truth beseeches)

.

I crackle my pale nails of toes, of fingers

that wriggle like an alien creature but I am

as well, (remember) a trespasser,  through

life forms, through elements, so to burn

and drown, and ravaged by air, or buried

in the heart of the soil, and still existence

glistens as long as there is a color in me,

as long as I can draw lines, series of circles,

I stay forever, but never when my palette

goes dry, and then I’d whisper goodbye

.

For dVerse Meeting the Bar.

Image source