"saline" poems
You are a sailor
Drift way from the harbor
Pull up the anchor
That binds you down
Set sail towards the horizon
Take off the blindfold
And hoist the sail
Let the wind be your guide
Sun and the Moon your compass
Steering through uncharted waters
Sometimes calm weather
Or, inclement weather, rocking your ship
Tackling the deep waters with alacrity
Unfathomable depths, yet the ship sails
Cutting through the waters
The saline water, which is a part of you
Seagulls guide you towards the shore
Anchoring at the preferred destination
Every grain of sand cushions your feet
Welcoming you to the island of bliss
Cut off from the mainland
Yet, helping you connect with yourself
Now it’s time to unwind
And join the party after a successful voyage
Ready to set sail for another expedition
As a sailor, cruise till the end
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
**** me like the ocean would the moon, Dear Amaranthine.
Teach me as you would any abecedarian, slow with pace.
My pallid arms are spread, and feet are crossed.
Crucify me, like one of your French girls.
Your endless frame arched over mine
a vaulting testament to the heat
of your front against my back.
This scene should have been a chapel.
Through hazed musk I can taste the saline
as it tumbles from your dripping brunette tendrils
forming brooks and lagoons the color of flesh
in the glens and about the islands of my spine.
I wish I could write about you in me
while you dance a contemporary beat
ceaseless, indeterminate, untold are
your feats within and upon my person.
For a split moment, seconds shattered in two,
I am completely and totally permeated by you.
I whine for you to vacillate me, I am ******* begging
to be occupied, satiated, by a rhythm akin to the sway of trees.
Love me fast and kiss me slow, Dear Amaranthine.
My palms are red, and feet bloodied, too. I moan.
Call me your poetaster but don't come on my chest;
There's far too much weight there already, my dear.
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
If you're ever on the riverside
where the sun beats your head
you would see the old man
selling hats of palm leaf
but you care not to notice him
having already smelled the sea
and too keen to cross the river
travel southward on the island
till the saline wind scalds your eyes
your skins itch to jump into the waves
yet the man with the palm leaf hats
would not cease to tell you
how burning would be the sun on the sands
and so badly you need to protect the head
by parting bucks that mean nothing to you
but a world to the mouths he feeds
and before you stamp on him a final no
she has one atop her hair
beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies
her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush
and two born anew lovers
merrily head for the sea
having bought romance
for forty bucks.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
The light pollution
from the lives of little people
in the big city
reflects off the lowriding clouds,
the same way my knees reflect
in the little puddles
from the big rains.
It hurts my eyes to look up
without sunglasses,
hurts my lips to think of tasting
the subway oil that
drip
drip
drips
I speculate at the transformers,
part automatic, part people
in their pre-ripped jeans,
learning to get their Ns
to drive themselves away,
yarn trailing from their sweaters
like parade float streamers.
Citizens run so fast
to catch the early train home,
freefalling down the stairs
breathing in the exhales
of the other racer’s exhaust.
Marking their triumphs
with participation ribbons.
The pacific pants at toes,
a puppy that only occasionally misbehaves.
Impatient for attention,
waves wagging back and forth,
up the imitation river,
past the downtown.
Kicking the sea wall with it's gravity boots.
The geese are on hiatus
until they can take back the city.
Making the drains overflow,
creating their own habitat,
they’ll strut their haughty markings,
distinguished from orcas,
away from any saline nonsense.
Were we to retrain the population
to turn blind eyes,
we’d be much more efficient,
stop wasting time contending
to society’s obsession
with documenting itself.
But then, what would we do all day?
Creating light pollution
must give immediate gratification.
Once all the lights are turned off,
the influence won’t continue,
creating a lack of permanence,
making our need to be remembered
seem trivial indeed.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
I remember tottering
in too-high heels,
and rolling through
the Hollywood Hills.
I remember the tide,
pummeling the pier,
as your saline lips
pressed against my cheek.
I remember coffee
and candy apples
and cole slaw
and swisher sweets.
I remember
mellow-minded sugar drops
and static-energy power pills.
I remember your smell
on my skin
and your tingle
on my tongue.
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
I sat by the window and gazed out
at the rain falling down
in torrents and sheets.
The night was black as ink, save the stars;
barely visible behind thick storm clouds,
pinpricks of silver in the ebony scape,
as the rain continued to fall.
I thought of you, of the deliberation in your face
etched into every feature a painful, wavering resolve.
The decision before you:
two fates, the ending, or the prolonging of the time before the terminal predetermined.
I grieved as I remembered the pain in your eyes.
I know you too well. I have seen too much of you
for you to hide this from me. I broke
-a silent cry of realization, collapsing my furrowed brow into a contorted countenance
as I realized that you were gone
not just for now, but for good.
And so there I sat that night,
after I removed the gold chain you rested around my neck
after I scrubbed away the makeup
after I traded my lipsticked smile for a mourning countenance
-I sat, alone in the dark, and gazed out the window into the rain.
I wondered where things had gone wrong.
And so, May showers
drove away April's flowers.
It was all I could do to cry quietly,
face soaked with the saline of sadness
that dripped now on my chest.
Now, I sit again at the window
and the same song plays that had consoled me before
'you'll feel better when you wake up'
And I did.
The sadness stayed safely at the bay
while I tried to channel it again
But this time it wasn't the same.
Though I duplicated the mood down to the clothes I wore,
the heartache was no longer fresh
and my face remained dry.
Sure, I felt sad. But it was not from you.
It was not from a heartbreak or a brokenness.
It was inorganic sadness, brought on by my own need for closure,
the thirst for a goodbye that burned my throat in agony and sorrow
that my parched lips would never find.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
Violating a placid spirit
Memories transgress
desecrating the sacred.
Memories are
the dark side
of a full moon.
Memories are unsatiated desires
couched on sorrow
entangled in time
a perennial wrinkle on the soul.
Memories are trespassers
possessing neural atrium
wading saline sockets
slithering in to throbbing veins
tiptoeing to hollow spaces
burying all under their eerie weight,
Memories are an inescapable affliction.
In fragmented mindscape
Memories are violent winds
littering the past.
Lurking behind aches
in ethereal garbs,
Memories are assassins.
Or sema
of a swirling dervish.
Hurtling within, Memories
is an avalanche
pounding the abyss
choking the void
one gasp at a time.
Memories are
nameless apparitions
fused as shadows
to the very being.
Memories are an assault
on identity and belonging.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
Tears
shining like precious pearls,
from the corner of your oyster eyes,
trickle in transparent torrents
into the sea of sadness
and drown in the
turbulence of the
wailing whirlpool…
Like jewels, so bright
saline stars stream down
from the sky of your face
to perform
dance of the dire distress
salsa of sad solitude
ballet of broken heart
waltz of weeping emotions
tango of tearful longing…
From the dark veil of clouds
like melting snowflakes,
crystal drops
roll down
your cheeks,
to unfathomable depths
of your heavy heart…
Simple release of sentiments
from overflowing well of eyes
shed silent tears of agony,
streaming down,
trails of shattered dreams
leave traces of hurt and pain…
Lifting your sad face,
with a touch of warmth and love
I wipe your fragile tears.
You smile -
and they reincarnate
as beautiful tears
of happiness…
Copyright 2011 © Bharat B. Trivedi
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 3:45 AM UTC
Beneath the sea
giant sand scratchings
saline bathing
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
She picked it up from the seashore.
He encouraged her,
Flattered her with indulgence
To bring back her dying flame.
A girl once again,
She brought it home
In whimsically ebullient innocence!
On the polished floor
In a faraway city
It found it hard to walk
With the load of mollusk
And made a funny sight!
It strained its ears
But there was no sound of the sea,
No saline smell in the air,
Instead the water was sweet and insipid.
It went thirsty.
The food was alien,
It went hungry.
Soon they polished the shell
And celebrated addition of
Another showpiece in their room!
The crab had at last
Found a new home.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
The sea isn't a blanket.
Sure, blankets may have waves,
and blankets ripple when you jump on them,
but a blanket does not host Atlantis.
A blanket isn't full of saline.
A blanket does not hold billions of creatures underneath it.
Instead, a blanket only holds a couple, snoring, unconscious,
unaware of the each other,
unaware of their petty troubles,
unaware of their drunkenness,
unaware of their bruises,
unaware of life, death, and the sea.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
We walk upon the dock,
skinny dipping swimming in our Moonrise Kingdom,
in the sea we swim with saline skin,
as the Moon rise ascends with Mars patiently waiting,
where are we,
we are in a place many call paradise,
suppose that’s as good of a word for it as anything,
raw rock lobster ceviche no married time just maritime,
mirrored minds,
looking through the Looking Glass,
brewing brines,
the home brewed stew is cooking fast,
there are plenty of fish in the sea,
it’s just up to you to cast,
the only problem with magical moments,
is they are always gone to fast,
basking,
in her stare,
brackish
taste in the air,
Her eyes reflect the light of the Moonrise,
the shine reflects from moon to hair,
and we are both grateful for each other,
because we could be anywhere in the world but we are here,
her eyes reflect the light of the Moonrise,
she is as soft as white sand beaches,
but her shell,
her shell is as hard as stone crab no ceviche,
teach us,
teacher,
show me the Love,
class is always in session,
show me the Light,
show me the truth in your lessons,
blessing,
this world with her touch,
she commands where she goes,
she stands steady when she walks,
which is quite a contrast,
to this sea which sways below this dock,
we dive in,
alive when,
we swim,
within the waters with our bare skin,
bare skin,
under the light of our Moonrise Kingdom,
no where else to be but where we are,
so we’ll be here until Kingdom come…
∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
from Hollywood's Heartbeat
available worldwide 7/7/16
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
buffalo head cloud
rawhide drums
saline rollers at tantalus cross
ominous light
forms a short mile away
head lice
and peckers
tap the metal track
shovel train pings
the night quiet
moonlight
shines in
geometric form
arches and skiddles
and skirting reflections
(a vast connection of
grand design)
7 horns
at the passing
(oh that cold metal joy!)
stirring the blades
and ground cover
you better not turn old friend
just nod,
and cut what you need
it’s a bitter run
on the winter line
(with the finest
of wheels
and runners)
hold tight
on the pulley
the canyon wires
are clipping
there’s a gateway
to the copper town
*with a key held
by coveted few*
you can spot the
riders in their
box cars
watching closely
at the chunnel’s
dark turn
we’d walk
the lines often
(and put an ear to the ground)
the mine town still
and barren
hidden treasures
and pocket *******
settled deep
in a tranquil, stolid place
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC
I am tangled in your breath
exhaling the need
to hide in the corners of your touch
enslaved in lashes moistened in tears
tracing the compass of my face,
I swallow this saline-tainted want of us
upon my thirsty tongue
Enya-laced candlelight
soothing my soul,
the flavour of your gaze
seeping into the hunger of my veins....
You are a predestined addiction,
my inevitable attraction
I worship you in moonlight
in redemption beyond the fragments
of stained glass translations
a blindfolded religion
bound in all the words
we've tasted behind
the veil of unspoken confessions,
now dangling from the tip of your tongue;
You adorn me in a blushed haze,
a heaven unleashed in the colours
of your touch;
There is sanctuary in the curve
of this beautiful weakness,
I awaken on the edge
of wishes falling from your smile,
holding on to words that are
now and always
ours, alone....
The map into this omen awaits
scribed upon dog-eared pages
of this prophecy of life;
Love is a verse faded
beneath the trace of fingertips
longing to unwrap the secrets of infinity
hiding between desolate leather binders
forgotten in the shadows
tossed beneath an altar of unanswered prayers
bleeding before the sacrifice,
an intimate revelation
smeared upon a ruby-stained dagger
extracted from the heart of a dying dream
a pardoned demise delivered
in the verdict
of this reign of reality...
all I ever needed,
all I ever needed
was you...
I navigate through the cirrus of your sighs
in delicate echoes
fragments of your breath
wrap around me like the sun
invading the impending storm
in the last minutes of calm
seducing the sapphire-kissed stillness
in an azure rage
a liquid euphoria
racing through my body,
piercing into this drought of me;
thunder invades the tranquil horizons
of my inhibitions
exposed and lost,
so lost
in the rush
of your fragile rain...
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:44 PM UTC
i am the controlled group
i expected interferon and
i got a saline injection
hepatitis c is the
monster
hiding under my skin
i've called for 300,000 favors
from faceless friends - IRC, IRBs, dietitians, physicians
to try to cheat the system
and to cheat the 4 horsemen
harbinging my own internal apocalypse
"If they don't give me anything,"
I began calmly to my wife;
"the scars on my guts will generate another
Chernobyl out of frustration;
out wanting to see my son graduate."
my white blood cell count is 3
and i will wreck this study
go to mexico
and buy as much real medicine
as i need to survive
rudely refusing the FDA's
50% miracle drug
the ingenious intravenous
sugar pill
i only have 3
white blood cells
circumventing valuable scientific knowledge
is not off the table
i will walk away in slow motion
after saving my liver from
hepatitis hellfire horse jockeys in lab coats
with the entirety of clinical research
burning behind me
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Deep in the creek
where speckled light kisses the saline shore
and mud hole bubbles leave crab trails
I knock upon her door.
She opens with a whisper on her skin
licks my **** with her southern tongue
winds rise the dusts within
the mangrove falls quiet to her moaning song.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
***Dear Lord
we do give thee thanks for the abundance
that is ours in glorious ******
even though some of it is saline
and some with silicon
bless each and every one
~~~
tell your mind what your body
already knows
~~
understand this;
they wanna be you, they wanna be just like you
because right now, you are the sexiest
woman on God's green earth
Amen
~***
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
I only hear the chain clinking
under the endlessly spinning fan
& this continuous buzzing in my head.
I only see the light of my screen,
surrounded by the pitch of my room
& the veil of my solitude that covers me.
I only smell your memory in my mind,
of what once was really incredible
& what could have been so much greater.
I only touch myself privately,
the way you always did tenderly
& it's not nearly as good as you always did.
I only taste the abundant saline-drops
that carve deep lines down my sad face
& I know the flavor of loneliness,
remain starved for your affections.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
all day on the brink
saline hinging on lashes
reading minds far away
fortune-telling actions
and overgeneralizing
filtering the nonsense
to make room for the
nonsensical
minimizing positivity
maximizing black and
white negatives
focusing on despair
internal anguish;
vicious cycle of
irrationality
automatically
a day in the life
inside of me
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
I see you
I've seen those eyes before
Drowning in patched-up paddle boats
With promises of tomorrow slipping down your face
Like saline shipwrecks fleeing harbor
And greeting the ocean floor with damaged handshakes
And now you're hopeless
Focused on could have been's and maybe one day's
Knowing one day
Swelled up storm clouds
Could slide through your cheek bones
Like sunshowers preventing your skyline parades
But I see you still searching for rainbows
Covering your face with two handfuls of imagination
Daydreaming of days where technicolor dreamcoats
Become wrapped around your soul
Like tuxedos for the bold
I've seen those arms before
Deafeated willow branches in the moonlight
Rebellious to rise upright
And now you're tired
Only fired up when your flesh
Converts to kindling on a campfire
Building sparks that shimmer for seconds
When your light deserves a lifetime
But I see you still inclined to shine brightly
Trying to assign meaning to your life with two inspired limbs
That can freely build bridges or climb mountaintops
Clinging onto hope with sturdy fists
Exploring the peaks of your potential
I've seen those legs before
Tattered toothpicks on prom night
Frozen in stage fright on the dance floor
Pressing muted prayers with each footstep
Into creaky floorboards waiting for silence to ensue
And now you're nervous
You're certain those two left feet can't possibly find the rhythm
So your shoes are the victims of bashfulness
Fearing one false step will uproot your jitterbugs
And place them alongside the butterflies in your stomach
But I see you still owning your insecurities
Because you know you're alive just fine
I see you
You are who I envisioned you to be
I see you
Brushstrokes of imperfections shaded in perfectly
I see you
It's more than just your typical hello
It's a phrase for all of us to speak solely with our souls
It can make you feel at home at the center of your bones
When all your hope is lost and there's no where left to go
So when I greet you
Listen carefully
This is a reminder that your eyes can be thunderous
Your arms can be victorious
And your legs can be ambitious
Your presence is necessary for this discussion
And your essence is accepted here
Let me speak your spirit into existence
Seeing is believing
And believe me
I see you
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
You caught lightning in your mouth
and kissed the world a thunderstorm
All Four Winds bleeding out,
moment by moment
and stilling the night;
instill it with silence.
Infuse it with waiting
bait our breaths--
_--The ocean's saline, and
I'm surprised to say,
it seems to like us.
Lips can clamp or loosen,
catch and hold or unleash.
Choose one?
it's catch-and-release._
I gulped wondering into my mouth
and I spit out an omen.
Dolmen smile fading now;
twin teeth releasing
floodwaters
from this tomb door of a frown.
Quell the squalling night;
implanting our silence.
Infused with surrender.
Hold no breath.
Anyway...
We don't check on each other...
_...or look at our neighbors._
Yesterday's just that, friend.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 3:19 PM UTC
The golden sand swept around in synthe of beech,
where he hath made promises which he’ll keep.
He held her hands and walked past the bow,
the fazed waves whispered with a thwart,
Being thalosophile she stood with no go.
When the sea embraced the shore,
She could not keep him forsaken anymore.
Both settled to relish the saline tang,
As they oft had love pang.
One moonlit night she saw banshee,
Who warned her foredooming death,
She feared his life & ran gasping for breath.
She saw the wind unusually howled
When her beloved sailed and left her in cold.
She woke up and hushed and scream,
“this was a dream!”
Alas! Unconsolable she seam,
When She saw his scar left on her heart,
Memories flashing by and her world falling apart.
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 2:48 PM UTC
Your father
Is ordering
Gold bangles
For you
You ought to be glad
The glimmer
In that eyes
When you were born
While wearing those
Tiny bangles on you
For the first time
Are inimitable
I feel envious
Of that bangle
And that world of yours
Without me.
I declare war
With your father
For no reason
Although certain
That I would disappoint as usual
I too had bought
A karivala *
In the third life itself
Sure that you would come
I’ll wear
That
On your hand
On the morning
Of
The fourteenth life
I have preserved the karivala
In saline water
Lest it
Gets blighted
I deserve the honor
Of being the first poet
To have preserved a black bangle
Meant for his girl friend
In saline water.
Translation : Shyma p
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC