The Body by Melita White

 

The body wants to move
wants to reinhabit itself
it wants to play
To bend arc writhe and double with grace and ease
The body lets go
It also gets tired
and stiff and it aches
The body takes up more space than the other bodies do
It is majestic and has presence
Full of symbolism and reference
it represents fundamental truths
cruel ironies and distortions
The body is encumbered
Yet extends beyond boundaries
The body is boundless Continue reading

Fear, Partitions and Damage-Aakriti Kuntal

Poemimage
Morning flicks her tongue around the curtain,
coffee with violets grazing
My arms, a sheath,
body velvet swimming around me, defenseless blanket

I am thrumming
as the mornings encroach my left bosom,
my dissected body shaking, blatant in its denial to sense reason

Cold and latent, ice blue, amphibian green,
icicles
f
a
l
L
from my mouth,
chunk after chunk,
my tongue strung to a second hemisphere
a constant too frigid to be forfeited now

I fold my arms, tape them to themselves,
To seize the bleed
from encircling all this fading life
This material wound
from (un)purchased dreams

I wear speech
in circles and patches, behind finicky windows
filming lavender saplings,
as my thighs grow transparent under
scattered blows of ashamed suns,
I wander in the echo of my footsteps,
and curl,
under the agony of diffused love

Fear stands,
almost fearless now
No different from the odor of my skin,
I seek its camouflage,
To anaesthetise the voracious thirst of my neonatal being

I wear fear around bunched fingers,
like ferns brown and fatal
Dissecting my yogurt eyes,
Blur,
blur,
fade the vision

I wear fear like a shield
/against/ myself
almost Like a preference
My body an occasion
of thunder
The lights continually
dripping
from my center
Harvesting
to draw this reeling sense of a fractured whole


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

Lotus- Aakriti Kuntal

Aakriti Lotus

Upwards,

these lips, boat-like

inundating rivers

within their pondering girth

Upwards,

this skin, cellophane treasures

collecting color from the

sky’s subservience

Upwards,

hand, mouth, body

Organs shattering in

coalescent proximity

I raise my head

to an uneven sun

Watch its cadenced portions

Clouds ablaze against

the hum of detonation

I raise my body, my skin,

my entire being

My cheeks frosting

like cream

The irregular elongation

of life’s symptoms;

a fat ellipse around

my belly

I raise my departed teeth,

my chiseled naivety,

my tapping feet

I buzz and blink,

my face a periwinkle pink

The forgotten trick of

forgetfulness

clawing at my lip

I draw my navel to the mouth

and perch like a lotus

I raise

my body,

my skin,

my entire being

I spill

white like the flashing night

And I never burn

Poem and photograph by Aakriti Kuntal


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

Offering- Aakriti Kuntal

Aakriti Offering
Give me swollen hands
Brandished, perforated, silver leek of rum
My mouth is a tangy trench
it yearns for terrible things
.
Place slender bones
beneath my tongue
Let me study their dents
where the earth burned and the meteor rejoiced
between saliva and epidermal forests
Skin hanging between teeth
truth like octopus on water trees
flesh inside flesh, color flossing cloth jaws
Give me arms, that take worms like love,
that have entered the soil, its bloody wrath, its desolate entirety,
where men sleep forever, no different from lamb peel
rubber veins that have cuddled death and fallen stars,
their mass graves inside stem cells
Give me the parabolic breath of an awakened thumb,
fingers that nibble and immerse in films of milk,
outstretched and clawing, with pink flesh like powder,
where God served judgment too early,
Give me tiny deaths in my mouth,
I will lick them all
as my cheekbones slope like cement sinks
under the weight of dribbling water
Give me the color of falling light
Let me wear it on my face
the absoluteness of truth
prismatic lights, shadows and rim
Let me wear violet to red under this bleeding nose
Maybe then, you can see
The truth

that so aches to be seen

Poem and photograph by Aakriti Kuntal


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

Fear, Partitions and Damage by Aakriti Kuntal

Poemimage
Morning flicks her tongue around the curtain,
coffee with violets grazing
My arms, a sheath,
body velvet swimming around me, defenseless blanket

I am thrumming
as the mornings encroach my left bosom,
my dissected body shaking, blatant in its denial to sense reason

Cold and latent, ice blue, amphibian green,
icicles
f
a
l
L
from my mouth,
chunk after chunk,
my tongue strung to a second hemisphere
a constant too frigid to be forfeited now

I fold my arms, tape them to themselves,
To seize the bleed
from encircling all this fading life
This material wound
from (un)purchased dreams

I wear speech
in circles and patches, behind finicky windows
filming lavender saplings,
as my thighs grow transparent under
scattered blows of ashamed suns,
I wander in the echo of my footsteps,
and curl,
under the agony of diffused love

Fear stands,
almost fearless now
No different from the odor of my skin,
I seek its camouflage,
To anaesthetise the voracious thirst of my neonatal being

I wear fear around bunched fingers,
like ferns brown and fatal
Dissecting my yogurt eyes,
Blur,
blur,
fade the vision

I wear fear like a shield
/against/ myself
almost Like a preference
My body an occasion
of thunder
The lights continually
dripping
from my center
Harvesting
to draw this reeling sense of a fractured whole