BIO
Ambika Talwar is an educator, author and artist, who has written poetry since her teen years. She has authored Creative Resonance: Poetry—Elegant Play, Elegant Change; 4 Stars & 25 Roses; and other chapbooks. Her style is ecstatic making her poetry a “bridge to other worlds.” She is published in Kyoto Journal, Inkwater Ink – vol. 3, Chopin with Cherries, On Divine Names, VIA-Vision in Action, in Poets on Site collections, in St. Julian Press, Tower Journal, and others; has been interviewed by KPFK; has recorded poems for the Pacific Asia Museum. She has also won an award for a short film at a festival in Belgium. She practices IE:Intuition-Energetics™, a fusion of modalities, sacred geometry and creative principles for wellness and teaches English at a community college. “Both poetry and holistic practices work beautifully together, for language is intricately coded in us…,” she notes. Originally from India, she resides in Los Angeles, California. Sites: http://creativeinfinities.com * http://goldenmatrixvisions.com * http://intuition2wellness.com Interview: http://www.timothy-green.org/blog/taoli-ambika-talwar/
Bread for the Multitudes
I am the bread
on night of the moon
I am the wheat that rises
from the Earth
on night of the moon
when the dews fall
to feed the seeds
I am the bread
that is born
that rises
like sun the flower
poppy plucked whose seeds
dried sprinkled baked…
I am the bread
food for the multitudes
for times past and arriving
I am the wealth
the bread that was…
Now tastes linger
in mouths of hungry
who are forgotten
who have forgotten
what milk tasted like
how it felt warm even
from beloved mother’s breast…
I am the bread
on night of golden moon
when everything is full
rich luscious
waiting to be tasted
to be touched.
How the cup did run over…
I am still that wealth
born cradled among green
sleeves in baking warmth
the food the bread
the breast that brings to rest
the singing grain the wild fields
that run into lap of moons
silently when no one watches.
Are you listening?
So I may nourish the forgotten
the forgetting
So I not stray but follow
shine of moons and greet
the honeybee sweetening
my body with leavening…
I am still the bread
I readily ask for succor
So we may be whole
again: you and me…
the world over
Our Silent Loving
I shall now be still and silent
for not one but many storms rage.
Will you turn the page in sky’s immensity?
Will you catch the fire-fly
that wanders in my eye.
Your reflection…or mine through yours?
I shall now be a smile unfolding like sky
darkening until only a single star shines.
Will you grab its twinkle
in your palms and rub your eyes?
Is this true? Such a love? You ask
before the masked sky readies…
to rain upon our garden of peace
which we shall build before the last
grain has been eaten – the last sip of water
drunk – because we know
rivers will never run dry.
Our time is nigh – biding its place
in the silence of dews falling on satin rose.
Kiss away these tears so our rivers
flood not from solitary impatience;
dance on dirt so shadows becalm
before they turn into trees solid as witness.
See their soul-eyes richly sheltered in beehives,
as fecund Earth renews under purview
of all that is small and mighty, an ant
on rugged bark as your skin on mine.
Such silence wishes she could quieten
storms that are in me arisen – storms
that must chase away old deceptions.
I long for this new melody to crack the skies
of my being – so I am whole again
even in your eyes… especially…
So the world is whole again.
Time is stitching known worlds anew.
…..
Emerging Into Wild Delight
Dwell I in your embrace,
Beloved? What else is there but this –
Bliss full and empty even of itself.
You whose tenderly burning eyes
wink at the brim of cups of love
a cosmos tippling over
to spill her spiraling rivers – galaxies of stars
into our singular wild heart,
for this is the beating,
the beating into gold’s fineness
that weaves our skin with elation,
and our touch the anodyne
of ages beyond ages which have raged
though time’s unyielding awakening
to ravage us whole and empty.
For here are we shaping the endless
terrain – what’s left suddenly
emerges in wild delight!
Look into my eyes – see sans end
what you have found – this newness
marked by a shadow or two
reminds us of a promise of aeons
when Earth herself was wild clumps
unrealized dirt – and we the stuff
of Shakti’s dance in Shiva’s encircling being
born; then we witness it all and the ache…
Is this yours or mine?
Such words swell my body’s every particle
with effulgence whose vibrations I know
disturb thy placid lake
into a swelling storm – Such madness
I fear will not contain a garden
without flowers, and now
they must come into bloom
asleep or awake – it is what the world
has asked for… — Isn’t it?
fragrance of rose shatters
between us rising at our feet…
…..
