untitled

lust, when cajoled & converted,
from the thing it was, becomes
a lascivious ghost, whispering
into your cherry-blossom-ear.

how easy it can be
to drown
in each and every
syllable of that voice,

how difficult it can be
to come out
of a well, where you’ve
bled & emptied yourself.

.
© Anmol Arora

Day 27
(Inter)National Poetry Month

 

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death of a kiss

the_dark_kiss_by_eitherangel
unearthed trinkets of lust
taken by my lips —
bitten —

bitumen of the roads left
behind —

quick-quirky-beats rise quickly
like moon-quivering-tides.

drink one on me, through me,

as i

taste the memory of your
kitschy kiss,
hear a silver sun’s silence,
left undisturbed,

ululating — dying.

.
© Anmol Arora 2018

For dVerse Quadrille # 64
Image source (An interesting reproduction and interpretation of Klimt’s The Kiss)

***
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a good night kiss

how it is so that smiles are dripping down his chin
and his eyes are capturing rainbows in their delight, oh!
“Annihilation,” the world cried.

he is the abysmal beauty in the hourglass of night, he
stands tall like a crane snatching stars from the sky, oh!
“Annihilation,” the world cried.

how he traces the outline of his cracked lips and digs into
napalm skin, how his saliva coats the lengths of desires, oh!
“Annihilation,” he cried.

he falls down the cliff, and breaks open like dreams; he sings.

.

Linking it up with the prompt titled “the sisters Death and Night ~ Micro Poetry” at With Real Toads.

amour

evening_a_24_inches_high_x_34_reproduction_oil_painting_68b57a6f

dear

oh Dear –
it’s an evening of amour,
experienced alone, behind the open
windows- a view for the world
abstaining from desire, I disrobe
the words, and let them ablaze
on
the tip
of
my tongue.

dear

oh Dear –
let’s flow, let’s blow, let’s sing,
let’s waltz around in our skins,

*तू स्पर्श है तो मैं एहसास,
लब से जो तू छू ले तो मैं विलाप,
तू पुष्प जो है तो मैं  भँवरा हूँ.

let’s flow, let’s blow, let’s sing,
let loose control.

in dots and dashes,
I sigh, my last word,
in dots and dashes.

dear

oh Dear –

*you are the touch, I am sensation,
you are the kiss, I am that moan,
you are the flower and I, a bumble-bee.

Image source

Linking it up with Poetry Pantry.

A Side Note: One of my favorite poets and bloggers, Oloriel Moonshadow, has recently published her poetry collection. Please check out her book here. It’ll be available on Amazon soon.

this is a communion of mockery

and it is bestiality that sucks
blood from my passion,

pin me down by your gaze, subdued,
I cry out, bite my spirit into chunks
of my broken armor, burn me alive

this instant, plunge my back with
the sword of impudence, against
my wish, but my wish is held true

in the recesses of this panorama
where nothing is seen, and everything
is naked.

punch my chest to make me numb,
your nails piercing me through
and through, till nothing is left
unterritorized. I’m no longer alive.

dead, I am, to the shadows that fall
on your naked back, I plunge my hatred
inside you with a power of resurgence,

of

this treachery of an evening, that lives
beyond the realm of an everlasting night.

let me be the trickster, let me
be the one to wrench open your arms
and embrace you with my lethal dance.

let me wrestle around the sky where
the sun has been plundered, disgraced.

let me eat the flavorless fruit
of this mockery of life, of passion.

let this night line my shores again.
let this night never touch me again.

.

The year before last, I took up a challenge to write and publish 30 poems in 30 days of November. And I finished it. This year, I am going to try and imitate it. This is Poem # 1.
Linking it up with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Image source