Whispers

Whispers: A tale of my forlorn soul to my fingernails
A point of truth occurs on my sordid laps,
I had enough of alcohol, enough of pills now
Fatigue, disappointment, Dropping ink,
Like a spot of timid bee,
my back scratches the pain of black paint,
spawling I am dwelling outside the cape of unknown and the known
Travelling graves and the faded stars
Beneath duality, a layer of another transparent air exists
Cubes of salt and granules of sugar
Sip, slap, gulp.
Hush, my thoughts are evolving back and forth
oh, forth and back(tapping the drums,
iteration)
The breakfast I prepared stinks tonight,
I will eat the dinner in the morning.
The circumference of my naval is lit yet again,
There are stories piling inside, Stacking of memories,
the throbbing of outnumbered voids.
Silence, noise, silence.

-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.

64 thoughts on “Whispers”

      1. But you write different always,when I write I struggle with repeated lines and imagination in my mind,I have to filter them and think of new things every time I write.But you will write two to three poems same day without any similarities

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  12. So I enjoy your poetry, although I would say 80+% of the time I am unable to extract any meaning even with a dictionary or 3-5 attempts, but felt this one is all about change and that the whispers are guiding us to a state of all seeing and all knowing and not just existing on either pole because you need one to know the other. The breakfast stinks at night and you’ll eat your dinner in the morning. Or I’m way off again haha

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    1. You know, I get that a lot.
      But its all about words and jumbled pieces of words and thoughts and when I mix them I have something ready which a few resonate too.
      Your perception is well appreciated as well.

      The breakfast and the dinner was an Oxymoron, a figurative speech!

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  17. That was so beautiful!
    “Hush, my thoughts are evolving back and forth
    oh, forth and back(tapping the drums,
    iteration)”
    They can so quiet thoughts. Not just screaming! Fantastic poem! I appreciate being able to read it.

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  20. This is indeed beautiful as so many comments say..the whispers and the throbbing of the outnumbered voids propels the incessant magical imagination.
    Always a pleasure to read your poems, I wish I could at the pace at which you write.

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  22. Ah, this growing whispers inside, piling up until our meal smells funny. Familiar feelings arising from being bitten by another (or others) can be like bile in our mouths, contaminating our senses. Your poetry always sticks on point and these moments you capture you do so brilliantly.

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