saloni kaul

Saloni Kaul, author and poet, was first published at the age of ten and has stayed in print since on four continents. As critic and columnist, she has enjoyed forty-three years of being published. Her first volume, a fifty poem collection was published in the USA in 2009. Subsequent volumes include Universal One and Essentials All.

Saloni Kaul is also an accomplished broadcaster, writer-producer-presenter with innumerable documentaries and features to her credit.

Most recently, her work has been published in The Horror Zine, Mad Swirl, The Penwood Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, OVI Magazine, The Whimperbang Journal, Mantis, The Paragon Press Journal, The Imaginate, Mystical Muse Poetry Magazine and The Charleston Anvil.


Wild flurries of impressions whizzing by like delegates,
Soak in, and the mind drinks in a potent emotion for two.
How these all knit themselves together in neat aggregates,
Where, when and how, but penetrating somehow they all do!
With all the additives, accumulations,
These weigh one down, heavy on scale as a collection’s reach;
Message burdens aimed, meant oblique, like compilations,
Take on sense of their own, above intent of each.
Like wise man lets go of emotional residues
To then elaborate chart of man’s role, his fate,
Like lover and loved one pile up emotions’ cues                       
Till the moment’s right, their love explicitly to state.
Such is life’s rhythm, like love’s playful tease.
Each sole collection’s patterned so only to seek release.


Rewards do come from being neat and tidy,
That big spring cleaning when you simply tidy up,
Instant as that tidy sum that’s for you ready,
Or you make clean net gains sturdy as horse’s stirrup.
Garden substantial neat and tidy, well maintained,
Like picture-perfect towns, books trim as steaks crumbed,
Traditionally have always been to countries likened
Where system, order and beauty is rule of thumb.
As hedges trimmed, lawns weeded mowed, flowerbed
Etched, shaped, stretched out varied vast as your dreams allow,
So books on shelves, papers in desk stapled or clipped,
Clothes in cupboards/closets, shoes on shoe rack take a bow!
Heed this, if a poet’s loud entreaties are to no avail,
In short, “Tidy Your Room,” let Mom’s word instantly prevail!


All through life we’re riddled with extremes keen
Like towering highs and touching rock bottom
That renders complicated thriving in-between;
If we take them to heart, like birthdays, or eggs rotten.
The heights of bliss can be attained unsuspected,
Bliss comes within reach, those heights all respected,
By the one least dazzled by diadem,
Like windfalls at your door, salt lake deposits unexpected
In joyous mounds when you least count on them.
Plumbing the depths sounds cruel, masochistic,
Occasioned for catharsis (if you care an ounce),
Like ball hurtling downwards rapidly; realistic   
Needs solid base terra firma off which it can up bounce.
So all along be totally true to yourself,
Neither in awe of heaven, nor in fear of hell.