a cat’s person

who are you? where did you come from?
your claws dig for the skin beyond the skin.
wagging your tail, you seem to know things,
hear and see and feel all that i want to hear
and see and feel —

you are a monk, every morning spent
in soulful reflection over your own
lithe form, licking the underbelly,
washing away the filth and dirt
of this uncouth world.

you are Mao, your war for space
is without bloodshed (your politics
is shed), you are in a random chase
for what does not exist. you are the one
i think who would kill me in my sleep.

you are Amma, the protector of this realm,
fighting fleas-like-people (thy servants),
birthing new dreams, you are this creative
spirit, it is in consonance with the stars
that you make all the clouds go away.

i seek to understand you, become you,
all of you, each one of you, i want
to forget who i am and exhaust all
my nine lives to unknow
where i came from.

.
© Anmol Arora

Image source: Dali Atomicus, Salvador Dalí and Philippe Halsman (1948)
Linking it up with my post at dVerse Poetics where I have shared some cat-chy poems and prompted the poets to write on all things feline

phantasmagoria

the last night’s bemoaning touch still speaks
in its streamlined, suggestive tunes, to gather
support for its resonance, while whistling
its siren melody in the dirty swathes of light.

its own nature has taken a toll on its slighted
health with the calming chill of a crestfallen
rain. dreams beside the bulwarks of fantasies

gather all that is left of a tattered peace flag.
the grief is not that the steps were numbered,
but that they weren’t counted, to begin with.

it grows inward – in-in – perhaps to reach its
middle, its beginning, where all becomes one.

the trunk of the old banyan has adhered to
the loss like none other, unlike my eyes that
widen, still, at the prospect of a sting from
the mouth, that speaks of those lived glories.

but how do i strive to remember how to fly,
when i did not know how, to begin with?

~

© Anmol Arora 2018

For Sunday Whirl’s Wordle 367, Camera Flash at With Real Toads, and Poetry Pantry at PU.
Image source

***

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.

leaving for her journey

Hello bloggers,

I got a wonderful opportunity to work with the lovely Merbear and you know what, we ended up creating this poem together. Please read and share your views.

leaving for her journey

She was binding her hair in a bun

Readying herself for the journey ahead

Which may take her to distances unknown

Bring in her the sense of being alive

She had never felt ever before

She was leaving behind all her fears

For the adventure that awaited her

 .

Her stomach coiled like a snake

Past torments licking at her heels

Dare she run so fast and proud?

Her life not worthy of a fairy tale

She sighs so loudly she startles herself

Trapped emotions needing to meet air

Praying to breathe air

 .

The stream of tears fell down her cheeks

Which she didn’t even care to wipe away

She was looking for a happy ending

Which she had to find herself in her own way

She picked up her hand bag of happy memories

And moved ahead towards her cage door

And pushed it open, it wasn’t locked

 .

Desperate echoes of her soul

Beckoning to her aching heart

Calling her to where she needs to be

She trembles with trepidation

Limbs weakened by the struggle

Her life never drawn before

By her own personal design

 .

She was never meant to be free

Doubts crossing her mind

When she had just seen the sunshine

But she would never return back

And thence, she flies away

Its true leaving is difficult but

Once you have left, it is easy not to turn back

 .

Then the breeze whispered her name

A lullaby warm and soothing

Like balm for her battered soul

Bringing her back to herself

Oh, she thought she had been lost!

Smiling inside herself with pure joy

For her true path was known all along

 

The few words I use everyday…

The few words I use everyday

to describe myself

the condition I am in

fall short of

how I actually feel.

I am not very expressive, I know

but I try to express

my emotions, my feelings

my everything through the words I write

which fall short of how it feels

to be trapped within a cage

which opens up everyday and you can go out,

but with a sensor attached to you-

you are given freedom

which fall short of what you need,

you are caged even when the cage is open.

 I speak out these words

to express how I feel

which falls short of

how it actually feels.

May be the future isn’t so bright for me…

May be the future isn’t so bright for me

May be I won’t always be free

But at least I won’t be as trapped as I am now

I know no one, not even I myself can make such a vow

But I got to have some faith in something

May be my decision won’t solve everything

But I got to believe, I got to have some hope

I need to stay clinging to some rope

May be the future isn’t so bright for me

But I can hope it is a far better tree

than the one upon which I sit today

Maybe I will find the lighting ray

One which will make it all fine for me

Even if I won’t always be free.