when a flame dies

98.306_01_b02-large-tiff_4000-pixels-long

& the way a drunk mosquito burns—roasted
when it strikes a humming electric
racket, sweet pleasure is found

in the touch of a fire, getting
closer, warming undulating nerves,
burning many skins and hearts —

i sit beneath a cornucopia of thoughts,
shaded by empty words and loss, un-
true to the universe, unforgiving of
black nights and their igniting stars.

i want to learn how to perform in symbols
and when there are shortages of voiced whispers,
i need to let go of my vernacular, my colloquial
lips in favour of a rusted language, that
i have borrowed and bracketed for my cause.

i don’t remember the words, not their units
of deflated lungs, alight clay lamps, final
sparks of a flying cracker in the air, so
i absolve myself of all that has gone,
not knowing, not even writing, because
i don’t know how to do that anymore.

.
© Anmol Arora

Linking it up with “Kerry Says ~ What is Metamodernism?” at With Real Toads
Image source (Untitled [glossy black painting] by Robert Rauschenberg)

unlocked


why do i live here
in this key-
holed place?

the lock always unlocked,
and grooves unmatched in their
slick gestures,

welcoming in ignorance,

the key of kinship
bearing weights.

i don’t carry bread
nor its baskets,
i remain a shadow of
5-letters,

holding my name…

— a butter-knife —

spreading relations,
consuming every morsel
of belonging.

.

© Anmol Arora 2018

Image source
For With Real Toads’ Camera / Flash 55
Also linking it up with the Poetry Pantry at PU

***

I have been working on a new Insta handle for about 2 months now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
For contact, you can reach out to me through my multiple profiles, enlisted here.

Looking for an emerald…

Travelling between

the thin line of

reality and fantasy,

looking for an emerald

that resides in me,

.

I stumble through distant paths

get burnt by dragon’s tongues,

 I climb the mountains

to see no sun

but be struck by lightning

in search of something

that is nowhere

but inside me,

 .

I dwell in darkness

feast on my own dead skin,

split open my eyes,

looking for that island

where I think the stone is;

 .

fantasy becomes reality

when I last return home,

and find some drops

falling down my open eyes,

they glint with a distinct sheen,

and I realize,

they are the dear stones,

I was looking for,

in the realm of fantasy,

 .

all the time,

them being overlooked

by my heart,

but present

in my own reality.

*Written in response of dVerse Mirage/Fantasy prompt.

Hotaru (Firefly) Haiku

shimmering fireflies

into the eyes of  beloved

a passionate love

~

old stream of water

soldier returns home from war

black tears, fireflies gone

~

midnight moon shines bright

hotaru glows at distance

illumination

~

a mid-summer day

young boys trot towards river

waiting for the fire

~

waters set on fire

man gazing into his soul

a soundless twilight

~

splendor of fireflies

fairy tale coming to life

spectators gather

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 221

* Won’t be able to post for the next 8 days or so; going to miss the wonderful prompts.

Homemaker

He was about to go out when she interrupted, “Best of Luck for the meeting. Come, I will get for you a bowl of curd and sugar for good luck.”

“Don’t you know I don’t like to be called while going out,” he sneered.

“I am just asking you to do so for your own success,” she reasoned.

“Please don’t think about me and do your own work,” he angrily replied, “I haven’t married you so that you could become a hassle for me.”

“I am just trying to keep you happy,” she said in a teary voice.

“If you want to keep me happy, just do what you are asked to do.”
“And don’t cry in front of me.”

“A burden… yes, that is what she is,” he mumbled to himself, leaving for the office, without giving a single glance to his weeping wife.

“Why?”
“Why can’t he love me?”
“Why can’t he just accept me?”
“I was not married off to live a life like this.”

She cried and asked the open air, these questions and then cried even more.

Wiping away her tears after a few minutes, “I must not let these thoughts come to my mind,” she told herself.

“These are demonic thoughts.”
“I must respect my husband. He is everything I have got.”
“I should try harder to please him and continue to do so even if he doesn’t pay any attention towards me.”
“I am a wife and I must fulfill my duty as the homemaker.”

She had all but forgotten the ill-treatment she was subjected to by her own husband and went off to the kitchen to prepare the meal for the day.