A Founder Editor of Muse India, a literary e-journal, who also had served as its Chief Editor, Ambika Ananth is a bi-lingual writer, poet, journalist, reviewer and a translator, who has twelve published works, both in English and Telugu in various genres like poetry, prose, short stories, creative writings. She is currently the Editor-Poetry of Muse India- www.museindia.com. Her first poem in English appeared in an English Daily when she was a 14 years old. Since then her creative writing continued. Her English poetry has appeared in many National and International Anthologies and in ‘Indian Literature’ of Sahitya Akademi. She regularly contributes her articles to the English Daily “Deccan Herald’ and to THE HINDU, and reviews books for ‘Indian Literature’ and ‘Muse India’. She had translated nearly twenty titles of Children Literature for Pratham books of Akshara Foundation and for KATHA of New Delhi. She is a Life-member of Poetry Society of India, ‘Dhvanyaloka’ of Mysore, and ‘Lekhini’ a Women Writers Forum. She is a recipient of several literary Awards and felicitations. She lives in Bangalore, India and can be reached at ambika.ananth@gmail.com
The tender blushing bud
with the fertile touch
of the eternal magician
opens her pristine petals
to rediscover every vein
that spreads colour
deep down to her heart.
Speaking to the soil in soft whispers,
she learns to bloom to the full,
feels the warm dawn of youth’s fragrance,
ages enough to feel the impulse
that makes her lean sunward
to show her splendour.
Awakened and aroused,
raring to reveal more and more
of her untouched perfection,
the bud
turns into a flower..
Ocean in tide
within my body
Fathomless depths
hold untold secrets
Each breath
a tidal wave
Rises and falls
exhaling my love
The ebb and flow
like curse and benediction
play a game
to touch and go
with your body –
a hungry sandy expanse
deluge seems inevitable
in this night
of full moon…..
The salty waves of tears
are corroding my vocal chords
The eternal thirst for you
is burning like a black Sun in me
The longevity of hope
is drying up like a blade of grass
The skin of my dreams
is peeling off bit by bit
O rude, ruthless life
you do not seem to answer prayers
I will lay a trap
to grab you
and satiate my hunger
I don’t fear you O life…
I fear your absence
“ I beseech you God, to show
my full self to myself”
St. Augustine’s plea
I too sought the same
yet stopped before asking him’
Can I bear to see?
the nature of my own self
if He decides to reveal?
But how could He…
I am still not full
I am still becoming.
She felt like a wilting leaf suffocated by his hot breaths
She felt fully naked under his lusty gazes
His hands like uncoiling snakes
Slithered up her skirt folds
Caressed her thighs with menacing boldness
His hound like face smirked in triumph
She felt powerless in that black sea of lust
She felt violated in every cell of her body
Her boss, a sophisticated contraption of sexual overtures
Rapaciously enjoyed this onslaught on her soul
A soul which is like an un-healing wound…
A soul housed in a cold and lonely skin.
Her every heartbeat holding deep hurt,
She lived a life of untold shame and guilt
For carnal wrongs done by him
With a canning candour and the whitewashed facade,
displaying honesty,
beguiling smiles of purity,
He exhibited so very cleverly
A mocktail of fact and fiction of a dual personality.
His evil primitive prowl games
His foul dark side
Came to light finally
when her silent quivering lips opened
to bellow out the words to the world
‘Sexual Harassment…’
