image- self

The heights often scare me
collapsing: with celestial bodies
galvanizing, molesting only my skin
crooked tree trunks, molten rocks,
reside in the outer rim of my stomach
The rituals die here each day, epileptic seizures,
the concrete blood vessels begin to spit,
spit and strive,
my narrow palm opening begins to feel,
spawling and missing.
At this point, I am a soaked kidney bean of hope.
The heights still succumb me.
I remember how I drew paintings of that daisy from my lawn
I remember a lot now for memories rest like an atlas inside me.
And memories also teach the momentum,
the possibilities of reading a pale tanned leaf.
Like a beaming flicker, a corrosive Sestina.

Published by

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.

62 thoughts on “Memories”

      1. Thank you for your writing that is always very challenging! Many things are expressed with intertwined words that address to one another and let it the thinking of the reader gallop…

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I do know what you are talking about but generally I do it anyway. It’s all about inspiration and it has no specific beginning I think. You may inspire me and I might inspire you. Haha.

        Liked by 2 people

  1. Everyday you amaze me with new frame of imagination and new knitting of words.are you reading chemistry these days.Galvanizing,corrosion ,tanning,it really used for change of material shapes and structure inside the molecular level.But relating with this with your memories is absolute brilliance.Acrophobia is common for many.And the way you expressed is about it is awesome.” I remember a lot now for memories rest like an Atlas inside me” .This is a awesome.Because we always visit our past memories with respect to time and places.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Oh, how I’ve missed this blog! I’ve been locked out since you redecorated (which looks amazing). But then SK Nicholas reblogged & I found a loop hole. There’s only a small group of unique poets that still exist and you’re one of them.
    Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go & devour all the poems I’ve missed here.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Oh my! May I say how flattering your sweet words feel to me right now!
      You are one of the finest writers I see here and it’s completely my pleasure to hear such an overwhelming compliment from you.

      You are more than welcome to read my work.
      So much respect to you!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Memories hold our pasts and I love how you liken it to a map. Our minds hold all that we are from those experiences we’ve shared with others to those we’ve enjoyed to ourselves. Your words always remind of those early days in Philosophy class!

    Liked by 3 people

      1. I love it, too. Yes, one has to have a mature mind to devour and internalize all branches of philosophy. I think you have a great handle on writing it and understanding it.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. An intense piece full of seemingly traumatic memories of this place. I know you used the pic and wrote what you saw, but the character you created was suffering, definitely.
    I loved this!

    Liked by 1 person

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