SALONI KAUL - POEMS
Saloni Kaul, author and poet, was first published at the age of ten and has stayed in print since. As critic and columnist Saloni has enjoyed thirty eight years of being published. Saloni Kaul's first volume, a fifty poem collection was published in the USA in 2009. Subsequent volumes include Universal One and Essentials All.
Most recent Saloni Kaul poetic production has been published in Poetry Quarterly, Eye On Life Magazine, Tipton Poetry Journal, Poetry And Paint Anthology, Misty Mountain Review, Inwood Indiana, Mad Swirl, FIVE Poetry, The Penwood Review, The Voices Project, Mantid Magazine and Haiku Universe . Upcoming publication acceptances include Sentinel Quarterly , AJI Magazine, The Voices Project, The Penwood Review and River Poets Journal.
CHISELLING THE HIGHEST TIDES
The Elizabeth Bishop Centenary Sonnet
A quiet character chiselling away in the land of the world’s highest tides. On 8.2.11 we celebrated Elizabeth Bishop’s hundredth birthday! To mark this centenary celebration, a sonnet virtually on location, from one who explored her childhood lands, lands she continually visited in her lifetime.
Like restless housewife moving ceaselessly
The staple furniture of her existence ,
Responding to each nudge from memory carelessly,
For change’s sake change , new positions, less pretence
As she lived and loved was all that was discernible
Between Boston brownstone and elmtopped Great Village.
She’d gleaned that in a freer Minas Basin air and tillage
Lay all what was poetically ascertainable.
Ah ! time and time again the eye reverts
To semblances of balance, orders old.
A sigh of sadness is all that escapes the culverts
When newness waves wash curling village shorelines cold.
From beds of loneliness though sweeping gestures stylised spring
Each time the prize is given to the cultured thing.
Like change that’s imminent.
And I’m happy when you recount
All heading my way each amount ,
All going in my favour add to my account.
Love with that pluck and thrill of the reckless
is a long wild wild leap into the unexplored
tight as a storyline’s trim contoured gist
honed by its own instinct , innate sixth sense,
and tempered by some good sense’s benevolence
To move like a professional aerialist
who is all accuracy prime itself above board
And be sure to land on your feet in love’s neat recess.
Love is incogitably slow floating on your back
on calm expanse of water like up there the aerostat,
like handsome indolently stretching bridge
With most amazing wampumstrung new views
of the sky eloquent above so blue
And knowing for certain like fired cartridge, flying partridge,
That it equilibratedly will always be like that.
You never will sink, never skid, back track.
All else is dotards devotion irrational on the shelf
that may impress with its high ardent fervour
and pressed sincerity the one receiving
but who like your stellated subliminal gods does not reciprocate.
Like wasting pouring your lifelong emotion state
on highly questionable ‘god’ who far from pat reciprocating
lives in a world remote, isn’t observer let alone preserver.
So look for one within your own precincts, one like yourself.
IN THE NAME O’ ALL THAT’S STRIVEN
The air around the rose goes spiralling up
Like a deed that long is proven.
Each whiff touches its corresponding chord
In us, as we the old enliven.
And all that’s heightened musical,
Lessons in classic correspondence ,
Exuberant vapours cloud to saturate the scene
Till overwhelming wisdoms all condense.
AT A HEIGHT , THE HEART !
When you see from the soul at a height all the world in a spin
It is like a fixed point that embraces its view in a clasp
That contains all the essences strong that diverge to the brim
Of the air to perfume in a haze like strained light with its weight the dazed realms.
You may dance, you may swing all you like if you think that you must
For the world down below is upheld by a pivoted clamp
That’s congenial long as it likes what it sees swift unscrolled
In a patterning vivid and flourishing wide like the whirl
That goes briskly as petals of rose ever widening clear
Till it reaches a form of perfection, a dream to behold