keeping up with timelines of loss —
the cold-handed warmth
of a touch, where the waist meets
the censure of modesty —
small-sectioned, covered
half-inched skins, neat-folded
and soft-edged,
curved, light-bearing,
pinched between the nails,
silver-glinted.
the early nights (touch) take something
from all of us.
.
© Anmol Arora 2018
Image source (A Munch-Gogh Parody)
For dVerse Quadrille # 67
the farsighted ocean calls me,
I shift my glance to take a whiff, of
new visions on the landscape
soaked with blood, of dreariness.
I am an effigy made of sand, touched
by the fingers of her sweet melodies.
her lips open up into the cavern
of the sky, dotted with planetary
orbits of my heart.
I can not see the ocean, it is away
in the gloom of the void, but I watch
her flippant dance as she clutches
her dress buttoned up for modesty
unlocking charms of my dead eye.
Inspired from Bjorn Rudberg’s poem, Nipping at the hard place. I loved the play of metaphors in his verse. It is a very artistic write.
Though, I couldn’t keep up with Bjorn’s natural flow, I still tried my hand at Catachresis, the literary device Bjorn used in his poem. I had to check what it meant and I read in detail about it here(shame on me for not knowing about it :D). And as soon as I read about it, I went on to write this piece.
HA's Place 