this licentious topography

your eyes are water-channels never be-
-fore-seen by the travails of my body,

your hands are grains on a dried river-bed
that haven’t felt what it is to be dreaded
with a precipitating desire for
such soft/silken/smooth meridians — i laugh
away your hesitant touch, as if di-
-vided by a barrier of evergreen trees.

the epicenter of this tremor lies
in your heaving chest, and your soft cries
are the lingua-franca of this land,
dense with ligatures of our limbs: misaligned —

we meet at the estuary of our dreams,
our faultlines eroded by limited means.

.

© Anmol  Arora

A broken/battered sonnet for my prompt this week for dVerse Poetics (On Geography), where I have shared verses by Whitman, Bishop, and Ammons, to inspire the poets and prompted everyone to inculcate geographical themes in their writing. Do not forget to visit and participate. Also, I am linking it up with The Tuesday Platform at With Real Toads.

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31 thoughts on “this licentious topography

  1. Kestril Trueseeker says:

    There’s a quality of innocence in this unabashedly sensual that feels both like a memory and present tense at the same time. An estuary seems like a very well suited metaphor.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. sanaarizvi says:

    “your hands are grains on a dried river-bed that haven’t felt what it is to be dreaded,” this is incredibly characteristic of craving and at the same time harboring the fear of treading into unknown or foreign territory. The poem speaks volumes about the speaker and his experiences.. I can sense shades of love, lust, pain and also adventure all of which lend us experience. Each one makes us more wise and strong as we stare into the eyes of the horizon. Arz kia hai .. ❤️

    “ishrat-e-qatra hai dariya main fanaa ho jana
    dard ka haad se guzarna hai dawa ho jana.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The flicker of interest has gone wild

    Unable to devour it

    The fleeting glimpse at each other intensify Stodility

    The flinty attitude towards me has been so Scurrilous!

    Please don’t walk away

    I’m tired of being Rigorous

    I won’t repudiate my faith

    You cant walk away like that

    The excruciating pains is in bundles

    Don’t be full of desirability of riches

    Their moves are supersonic

    You are my blessing

    Given to me on a silver Platter

    Please don’t walk away!

    Like

  4. A beautiful broken/battered sonnet, Anmol, and I love the title. There are some stunning metaphors in this poem, especially: ‘your hands are grains on a dried river-bed’ and the lines:
    ‘…and your soft cries
    are the lingua-franca of this land,
    dense with ligatures of our limbs’.

    Like

  5. Glenn Buttkus says:

    Wow, your lusty bold and broken sonnet uses the geographic terminology in a very original and creative way. The results blow my socks off

    Like

  6. mhmp77 says:

    kaykuala

    we meet at the estuary of our dreams,
    our faultlines eroded by limited means.

    You could make serious matters look so acceptable. Volcanic eruptions and the hot lava flows are serious and frightening!

    Hank

    Like

  7. Kerry says:

    Your approach to the sonnet is inspiring, and I must say that no one else I read these days has quite the art of writing of physical passion as you do. I am in awe!

    Like

  8. To discover the beloved’s body is topography, and love is geology, the tectonic truths of slow heart and sure heat. Great writeup for the challenge. Elizabeth Bishop was all about knowing where you were (and out-singing it), and Archie Ammons could even celebrate the contours of a landfill (“Garbage,” 1993)

    Like

  9. A very sensual and erotic poem. There’s a bit of touch and go here. Almost seduced and wanting to give in, but held back by fear or pain. I like the geography of body and passion.

    Like

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