In a circle full of moisture and baked apple pie’s, I crave and hold the periphery of Words like a sullen extension of truth. A point of solitude. I rub my skin to find the unsaid, undiscovered words, I rub my iris, my white thighs like a fiction produced by swallowing catharsis.

Discover. Run. Run in your stockings. Run in your shoes. Find the haze. Catch the molecules. Choke on the existence of W O R D S. Seduction. Dedication. Sanctification. I don’t want to be alive, for I am soiled and drunk. I am married to the drops of inebriation of pale figure.


Drop by drop I bleed poetry and imbricate the words on my yellow walls, on the roofs of my cracking teeth. Bites of cold potato shiver me, and hence a word like Intrigue sticks to my milky cleavage.

There lies churning noise of whispers now, a seepage. The thunders on the hills and the thunders of my words are the same. Yes, I OWN M Y W O R D S, clinging its petals to my naked waist and there is an Equilibrium.

Mellifluous. Limerence.

The winter is born.

ยฎMy 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.

101 thoughts on “Words”

  1. Rub my skin for undiscovered and unsaid words,and rub my iris and thigh..this is what a writer feels like when he search for words and imagery.you explained the struggle of a writer in a neat way. My favorite line is ” married to drops of inebriation of pale figure…” I think when writing poem every writer should be married to this.The great writers are born on how well you explain and how well u project that pale figure it your words.One more thing about your poems is you always mention women’s body parts in most classic ways, it’s romantic ,tempting seductive and yet beautiful in your words.The only thing I didn’t get was.,” Bites of cold potatoes shiver me and word like intrigue stick to my milky cleavage” are you telling about the feelings you are going through when you write a poem,like potatoes of words make your mind shiver and it intrigues your heart.Because heart is behind cleaver that’s what I see

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Surely!
      Writers know the itch of new words and savouring them completely. The hunt for words is so bizarre and indefinite. We do not know our hunt extensions and the joy it brings to our quenching soul.

      You have surely felt that through my words and I am lucky that you were able to resonate as well.

      Bites of cold potato..is another way of my imagination! There are things Kalyan which I am unsure of while saying, because it’s all in my mind and I don’t obstruct my thoughts. I just write whatever comes to soul and mind. My imageries are open to my readers perception always!

      Thank you so much for this immense support and feedback. Much appreciated, truly!

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Wow..thanks for writing such a long paragraph as a reply.I think there is something unique about your thinking process.I think you are deep thinker and more matured than people of your age.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. That reflects in your words.I don’t how you talk and how you behave in home with relatives and parents.because deep thinkers generally don’t mingle,they always want special place to think themselves.If they are writers then words will happen like this.Anyway..waiting for your next

        Liked by 1 person

  2. For all the intricacies that make-up your poetry, what really stands out here is how you emphasize ‘word’ until you declare in uppercase that you own your words. Words are all we have and without them we have very little left. Such is the poet’s lot in life. I also love how you played with form here, too.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I am so glad I found this post. As writers we all have a constant fascination with words, always seeking just the right ones to create images in our reader’s minds. Words become our paint brushes and phrases are played like a violin. I love the way you craft your phrases… “Drop by drop I bleed poetry…” Made me catch my breath because of its power and imagery. If I were to die tomorrow, I would want that said about me. ๐Ÿ’œโ˜บ๐Ÿ’œ

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I’m glad you decided to repost this. This just blew my mind. Your figurative language is unbeatable, simply unbeatable. Shivering here!
    So so damn good. Poetry at its flying best, Devika!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Beautiful, artistry of words.It is amazing how you transform the pain of creativity into something so beautiful, every time, all the time.Every time I read your poetry, it feels like your going through the labor pain of giving birth to poetry, in all its innocence and purity.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Yes, madam divine … you OWN your words. What a dazed reader an eye, head spinning and laughing out loud with the biting of the potato. You are unique and entertaining โค๏ธโค๏ธ

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Perhaps the laughter was a release of pent up adulation of the Valiant gloriousness encountered! The raw potato was merely the catalyst – cleverly added.
        Love always madam โค๏ธโค๏ธ

        Liked by 1 person

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