You Live

You Live

You do you know,
Or
Even if you don't.

Live on sweet Lei
Your life was too short
Yet the sweetness of it
Spread into deserts
Of loneliness.

Gentle kind reminder
Of what Humankind
Was meant
To be.

Not bursars  of self interest
Not borders guarding isolation
But Guardian Angels
To unknown destination.

Live on Lei
In my dreams of love
On astral shores
Of searing tender white light
Where timeless sands flicker
Stardust under shifting feet
Waltzing, traipsing
To half understood
Melodies,
Sweet nothings
Crushed dreams
In dance eternal
Encapsulating
Earthly time trapped lives.

Lei live on
In my spirit
In all the sweetness and love
I'm capable of.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Private Parlance

How should I write
About my feelings
Which only want
Sacred nurturing
Private parlance.
Language singes my blood
My veins sing hallowed
songs
Beautiful reed pipes
Trilling epiphanies
In despair.
How shall I Dream
When living nightmares
Prick my flesh apart
Mottling bloody thoughts
Racking the brain box apart.

How shall I cry
Tears evoke mirth.
Helplessly hysterical

I shall hang up
My lifeline
Murder my muse
My amusement knows
No bounds.
My horror
Is guilt
Profound.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Sepia in my Memories

You are sepia in my memories
That's all the light my heart cage
Can hold
Bewitching fascinating intimate half shadows
You are my return to Eden
You are my vision of Hell.

Why are you so lovely
When you will not last?
Why do we peddle in dreams
When dreams are all we have
Where fruition too
Becomes
A memorial service
A dream remainder of
Our gated lives?

But wait for the penny
To drop
The other shoe still falls
Should we have an eternity
To live and to cherish
To treasure and to hold
It wouldn't do at all
We wouldn't know
What we have
When we have it all.

We wouldn't have enough
Though we survived
Each winter and fall...

Time is my lovely sepia dream
A photograph in shadowed cream

Reminder of cold parting
Death be it
Our pleasing hurting.

Pleasure hunters
Treasure seekers
Our chests hold troves
In trust
And perpetuity
The myth
Children we bequeath
It at last.

Loving legacy
Sepia lives
Dreams don't die
As your
Old memories
Come alive.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

We are Ageless Angels

Withered hag and crone
These are the names given to girls
As the years roll out
On the tidal shores
As graceful gazelles
Find doe eyes dimmed
As voluptuous women find their
Curves grow lean
And oh their skin
Now translucent papery thin
Evanescent youth, rolled up,
Like leather scrolled
With life's parchment dreams.

Sigh...
The stars respect us
They hold our dust
And twinkling ask us
To still hold on
To dreams,
Through the numbed silence
Space time
Screaming silver mind streams
You Must.

Age is glorious
Benevolence
Munificent paen, survival
Stellar accomplishment.

And so
Weighed down
In earthly years
Brimming woes
Overflowing
Time's limiting spheres
Heaven holds hard and fast
God speed,
We are
More than our petty fears.

The universe
In its eternal palm
Lightning strikes
Of chance
Too vast to contemplate
Too freakishly uncontrollable
Light blue sabres dart
Stars speed us on
We love faster
Grow stronger
And live lustier
Dustier
Longer
Our flowing light waves linger
Charging the eaves of
Heaven's glowing domes.

Hags and crones?
Happy our hearts, mellow
With love's graven memoirs
blessed and cursed
Is loneliness.

Pity...
Is our grace,
Mercy ingrained,
hands outstretched
Offering solace.

Timidity isn't fearful
Constraint.
Unlike rigidity
Of turgid masculine aim.

In earth's solar palace
In blue vesper space
We are mighty
Mothers
Of the Human race.

Forget dry lines,
They're ley lines
Of instinct
Won't wither our souls
Heads high
We smile shedding
Psalms from hearts
Of gold.

Celestial movements
In December's notions
Our lives celebrating
Unabashed motion

Foundations, anchors,
Fulcrums and axles,
At the event horizons
Of centuries lapses.

Emotionally endowed
Rich connections,
Showering starlight
Courage and conviction
Carriers we,
Of the ageless
Timeless fire 
Of Constellations.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Second Tier Friendships

Second Tier Friendships
Are hurtful
When they're calculated ploy
And how much warmth you ladle out
And the distance you must maintain
Is carefully measured.

I don't mean I don't have gradations
And degrees of friendship
Evolving naturally over time.

But not those deliberate overtures
Of warmth
Which is reigned in and redirected
Once specifications formerly met
Are found to be limitations

I will not expect
Cryptic codes to be deciphered
I blame none but myself
For my gullibility
Is my guillotine.

I must learn
To keep at arm's length
Flattery is such sweet deception.

I must admit that I have
Lessons to learn.
Choose to love.
Don't love back.

The dear sweet girl
Who taught me this
Will become
Both rose and thorn
In my heart
Of aching pain
And remembered bliss.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

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