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New Poetry, Fiction, Essays

Poetry by Akshaya Pawaskar

Akshaya Pawaskar is a doctor practicing in India and poetry is
her passion. Her poems have been published in Tipton Poetry journal, Writer’s Ezine, Efiction India, Ink drift, The blue nib, Her heart poetry, Awake in the world anthology by Riverfeet press and few anthologies by lost tower publications. She had been chosen as ‘Poet of the week’ on Poetry superhighway and featured writer in Wordweavers poetry contest

 

 

 

 

 

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Insurgence

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We were going down the snake river
Like orphans we were trying to search
Faces and nuances of filial connection

We were drawing blood to match color
and scents and shed tears to see clear
Or see through the foundling parents

Justifying the sacrifice or seething at
Abandonment yet the scouting for the
Place to belong and have a totem kept

We dropped our armor on the salver
Dissolved in tea, sugarcubes colorless,
but the stain resurfaced hemosiderin

Things seldom quite under wraps and
Become ballistic, its taste was in the air,
Acrid, of matricide, ire and ambivalence.

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Malignant despair 

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Shadows whisper and glide like death
But the cry is soulful and reminder of
Life.
Ears are clogged with nerves and gum
Valsalva’s maneuver aids with knife
Pain.
Vertigo follows her around the room
Like panorama of your gadget lenses
Circle.
Quilt keeps getting larger and wrinkled
As the frame it ensheaths shrinks to
Marrow.
She smothers the yawning collarbone
As she throws up oftener than often,
Nausea.
Thigh gap widens, but anorexia is not
The thing she brought upon herself,
Cachexia.
She imagines her hair over bald moon
Looking out of the window, now just
A canvas.
And thinks of it as a witch levitating in
Air, harder to breathe without aid of
Prongs.
The loss, not just impinged on a brush
But of jewel called life she won’t trade
For Ophir.
Dreams of being in a Narcopolis arise
All the morphine still couldn’t equal,
Death.

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The Valsalva maneuver or Valsalva manoeuvre is performed by moderately forceful attempted exhalation against a closed airway, usually done by closing one’s mouth, pinching one’s nose shut while pressing out as if blowing up a balloon.
Cachexia or wasting syndrome is loss of weight, muscle atrophy, fatigue, weakness, and significant loss of appetite in someone who is not actively trying to lose weight.
Ophir. : a biblical land of uncertain location but reputedly rich in gold

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Rejection letter

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Audacity to think of acceptance

Anticipation of a rejection letter

on the monitor on the table top

in the dimmed light of zero watt

bulb, glaring screen vicariously

slaps one on the face. Go have

a look in the mirror. Get fluffy

half spheres under the carapace

of the roof of your body scanned.

 

You send an email out waiting

for the poet’s sweepstake win.

Go about humdrum life, feign

forgetfulness, nonchalance for

all your life blood sucked out of

your fingers, through intricate

Cortico-spinal connections, dull

under turgid prosaic existence.

An Impostor, you are terrified.

 

When the ashes of your soul

arrive in the guise of a ‘sorry,

better luck next time’ gloating.

You remember that which you

had never forgotten. You, that

stolid straight faced dead liar

cannot any longer hold it back

the Grimace of being hit below

the belt, the welt of dried ink.

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