down ‘memory’ lane

some pink, some white, some dead —
all the blossoms look fine-spirited,
dangling by the warm wind & waning
words of despondency,

abridging the distance between lives
&loves, unfulfilled, coming unhinged,
undone in the suggestive colours and
cocoons of their stationary existence.

i look grim in the blues of many nights,
still-born like a survival tale,
i am wicked, and winning at this game
to know of my wherewithals (wise ones),

when the night is over and i am down
&drunk over the waters of a pious Lethe,
flowing, coursing, right through me.

.
© Anmol Arora

Day 13
(Inter)National Poetry Month

a nocturnal refuge

as the night furrows the deep-entrenched skepticism
i carry within and out, like an extra piece of clothing
(on my nudity that does not embarrass me anymore),

i try to anchor myself to the moon — my mother, my
sister, my friend in insanity, my trusted comrade of
a bloodless birthright (rite)—& play with the strings

of a star-invisible sky, little-by-little, a tune attunes
itself to my grief, my being heavier as if the mass of
a black sun, and i put my mind to lines and words,

the gaps between my bones and silent sobs, rising in
the thought of my own betrayed blessings, healing
there on for an elemental recovery, imbued in an orb-

like feature, surrounding me, and i wait for things to
turn themselves right, to fulfill another night its end
of destiny, the despondency, the relief, the lonesome

levity, the tree-memory, the earth-bound-eventuality.

© Anmol Arora 2018

Image source (Night city by Svetlana Tikhonova)
For With Real Toads’ The Places That Heal Us — it is not a place but a moment, a juncture where time meets the customary requirement/need — a display of emotion for healing, for keeping on

Also to be linked with the Poetry Pantry at PU

the indeterminate sky

he roared with laughter

and the thunder rumbled,

a shine glazed his eyes

and the lightening strikes again,

he wept in joy

and sweet droplets peter down,

he cried a lover’s melancholy

and the great tears descend,

he wailed a mother’s fear

and the drops solidified,

he hollered in pain of despondency

and the tempest turns up

begetting mayhem and annihilation,

he is powerful,

formidable he is,

the king of the heavens,

the seed of the mother earth,

the father of the titans,

the eldest of all,

the indeterminate sky.

*Written in response to Personification prompt