Self-Portals


My skin coloured umbrella texture,
A polaris to inhuman substance
Extending in the North,
Like that shining star.

My red lip, like a stolen piece of a gem.
The duality of mermaid fins,
Stumbling, swimming, breathing.
I see it all.

Who am I?

The eccentric waves of ocean,
Inside my oceanic soul,
Flutters the depth of my eyelid
Narrowing my eyesight, blurry smoke.
And there exists a vast fountain of charcoal visions.
Unknown, insatiable flower petals
Choking on dead soil.

-My Valiant Soul.

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my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

34 thoughts on “Self-Portals”

  2. The question amid all the imagery really tells the story, linking the piece to the title. Sometimes when we look inward, we don’t always recognize what we see. I really like the idea of a self-portal whether it is reading back through previous writing, meditating and simply deep thought.

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