Writing on my wall

Who am I writing for?

Numero uno
for myself.

Secundo

For those who mirror
My feelings and perceptions.

Yes I don't
consciously write for everyone.

No I don't
want to write for the man on the street.

Unless that man or woman is

A  little bit like me

A little bit lost
A little bit wild
A little bit free.

People have rules
And conventions
Strictures and structures
That govern their lives
And so they
Claim their poetry.

Disciples of discipline
I admire
You

But I cannot
Adore you.

Form
You adorn my
Emotions
Not the
Other way round.

I have written triolets
And villanelles
Cleaves
And sestinas,
Dizains sonnets
Habbies and rondeaus

They
Gave me form, structure
Precision.

And the great joy
Of creativity
Sublimated
By conscious
Conformity.

And yet
There's something more tp
words weaving
Thoughts
Thoughts breathing emotions
Subliminal Revelations
God given trysts
Challenging
Personal frontiers
Impromptu
Rendezvous with
Poetry
Intimacy
Sacred and personal.

There I cannot
Compromise.

To hell
I'm ready to go
Hugging poetry's
Wild broke back ride

I write
To be me.

I write
To be free.

I write
Love and Grief
Melting molasses
In my brain
Running sweet syrupy
Dreams
From saddest refrains

Those are Creeds
That cannot be read
By causal eyes alone
By minds honed
To tread paths
Like trimmed notions
But through lenses
Of sun gazing tears
Prismatic orgy
That pulverizes Fear.

I will be
Me.

Offering
Myself

To
Muse

And
Reader

Who cares shall
Decide

Is it
Truth
Or dare

That's my
Poetry.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

2014 write Pink Ice Re edited

Pink Ice Paradise

Pink is the skyline over busy cityscape
The dusty gray building tops, the monolithic skyscrapers, metallic gleams of glass and chrome.

The kites are silent performing acrobats of the sky
And mysterious missionary birds fly in perfunctory V shapes
Pilgrims to cleaner climes.

The sky is build in progress
Stacking decks of icy pink cottonballs and lacing with golden froth...
sun backlighting the horizon
Creaming existence in a sultry glow
An exquisitely dressed look of urban Indian woman
Not a hair out of place..

The chirrups are muted
Alone a recalcitrant bird sings a whole chorus of protests
The cars relentlessly honk it down
Soon there is a settling silence.

Children swagger or stagger home
Bouncing ball against bat or carting stone satchels of primitive schoolbooks...sunken anchors of knowledge.

A few women stand, coy nose studs dazzling as the fall against each other with pretty petty laughter.

The prettiest raises her eyes to survey who is watching and meets the reproachful scowl of the old caretaker of the neighboring modern blue Church.
Our friendly neighborhood conscience, bland and watchful.

I look again at the overturned hemisphere above us, the bowl has turned pale violet...
The awesome light fractionally faded, a softer look donning its face.

A faint star silver blinks on the brink of nothingness
One long resolute wink at existence.

I wonder how many light years away...
I wonder
About men on that solar system
What would think
If they saw this world,
As it is today.

Is someone there watching my world from 'his verandah'?
As it was before the great  dinosaurs and dolphins arrived
or departed?

We stand moored in isolated insularity in our respective Presents
Witnessing each other's Pasts.

Vastness visionary as always
A spatio-temporal boundary wall
A prison for dead ages
Silent preserver
Of our ways.

All rights reserved
(c) Amrita Valan 2014 and 2017

I am We.

Intolerant hearts
Aching with mercy's
Shuddering compunction
Learning to release
Uneasy Inhibitions
Momentary stretching
Elastic horizons,
Then withdrawal,
A Springing back
To distraught rigidity.
Fluid flexibility
Exhausted
Like tautness
Of flesh.

Intolerance rampant
Rage of the amygdala
Keeping us trapped
In distracting warzone
Patriotism' feather fine
Delineated boundaries
Keep on making
Never ending
New otherness.

Differentiate.
Separate.
Hemorrhage.
Detonate.

In your hangover
Of horrors
Lying in your own
Safe haven
Licking ugly wounds
Guilty tongues
Lash and lacerate
Silences.

Forget viscosity
Of venom
See each gorgeous
Sacred babe
Lying in easy
Posies.

Blood blooming flowers
Of  a sane moment
Of tolerance.

They accommodate
Two separate genomes
Classes, cultures
Sub stations
In one nonpareil
Existence.

Ne plus ultra
I'm really uneducated
Uncouth
And they are
Really
Wise Magis
Eternity's wayward
Angels.

Is it
Difficult
To combine two
Diverse things?

Two divergent minds?

Two separate bodies?

Love making
We do it
Everyday
Casual
Causal
Intensity.

But
Our
Insurgent
Insular  lives
Were made
Effortlessly
Out of the
Mitosis and meiosis
Of our differences.

How much of my mother
Can't you tolerate
Dear Father?

In my veins
You're both
One and the same

Sublimated
Essence.

Ecstasy
Of union.

Epiphany
Of transmigration.

We're all
Humanity.

We're all
Life.

We are
Petty
Majestic
Eternal Conflicts
In resolution.

Let us rejoice
Sing off key
Verging outside
Neat circles
To edgy incompletion's
Spiralling ascents.

Celebrate Differences.

That merge.

To unite.

In Love.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Anushka

You shall stay
Young in my heart
My friend
As I grow
Gently old.

As my tears
Dry up with the years
Your words
Which cannot numb
My pain
Will crystallize
In heart cooled
Of ardour
To befuddled
glacial peace.

They will flow
Slowly through my veins
Like blood blooming flowers
And of your whereabouts
Keep enquiring
In vain.

Iron willed rosy crosses
Tormented
In pain.

So tell me sister
Does magic really die?
For to me
You are the elusive
Myth
That I could swear
Should have lived
On
Beyond this vale
Of Love's
futility and tears

Many poets will sing
Of love
But none can ever please
Me
Or with  ease and grace
Comfort be,

Where in space time's hold
Can such a source of
Joy
Disappear like
An odious trick?

Say my friend
My dear mage
You'll be back again
On shadow drifting clouds
On wafting summer breeze
A myriad moonlit dreams
And reclaim your life's
Shortchanged lease.

Arise from the ruby lips
Of the gaping words
Of your own glowing books
Not as visionary sylph
Or Sylvan dryad.

Poetess and sister soul
Forgive my anguished grief
Arise like
Raging stigmata
In wounded lovelorn souls
If so you wish.

But let my words
Find space within your
Dreaming will
I resurrect  you
With my pleas.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Sometimes reading poetry

Sometimes reading poetry
Of my friends
Or some famous poet,
I feel so joyous
So happy, I could
Die
And go to
Heaven.

Minds are loveliest
Without bodies attached
Pure minds
Etching ecstatic intimacy
Of the soul.

Where the most
Physical act of
Throbbing passion
Its ebbs and flows,
Transmutes
To sublimity.

Holiest of holy acts
Is Being
Flesh and blood
Bodily presences
Witnessing the universe
And powering it,
Releasing
Our purest
Essence.

The core of the
Kernel
The rind
Of the shell,
And the flesh
and blood and bones
Of the whole
This house
Of heaven and
Hell

How poetry
Wraps up
The entirety
Of it All

And gifts us
Majesty
In motion

Thank you each
Magus
Of emotions.

Your imagination

Is my gold
Frankincense
And myrrh.

Bethlehem
Shines brighter
Under your mortal
Stars.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017