poetry

Growing up in vintage walls

i was born of clay and mud
with peppermint segments inside my mouths.
My body was a pillar of rust—
ballistic Squamish music growing
like a pepper spray or a prayer.
Mouth of losses. Mouth of deformations.

And mother held me like a paper- boat
still floating inside her spring memory,
defying my half- bled fingers already/
i was born in reds and black,
the ability to sense lies with half-lit eyes
i was born in a warm moon,
it composed me anyway

in forms of lullaby and music
i grew with crooked hopes—
my years of growing up symbolised to balloons
seen in the air,
gone in the air..
still, somewhere, growing and surviving.
Lost, maybe.

so, i had kissed the backbones
of rooms never fading,
rooms always black,
it happened like a circus playing inside my mind,
with mute music often-
Loss of memory is surely a poultice, sometimes.

©MVS


41 thoughts on “Growing up in vintage walls

  1. What a vivid and unique description of growing up. I love how you put pepper spray and prayer together as well as the line – grew with crooked hopes. Excellent!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “i was born of clay and mud
    with peppermint segments inside my mouths.”This is Soo true And philosophical..we’re nothing but clay and mud..our flesh is that..and use of peppermint segments is Little interesting line..I don’t how I should understand,it can be understood as meaning itself or it’s infants move their mouths always as if they are eating or tasting something maybe peppermint..”My body was a pillar of rust—
    ballistic Squamish music growing
    like a pepper spray or a prayer.” Pillar of rust..woww..it says that it is already damaged somehow..and you told that it’s growing with the help of word play..like pepper spray and prayer.. “And mother held me like a paper- boat
    still floating inside her spring memory” loved it..soo sensible and beautiful❤❤❤…nice imagery..”in forms of lullaby and music
    i grew with crooked hopes” extraordinary lines…this is too deeep…and you compared growing year like balloon..and whole paragraph about balloon..it’s woww really….”.so, i had kissed the backbones
    of rooms never fading,
    rooms always black” this is beautiful imagery once again..and recap of those scenes playing without music is one simple line which is intense..loss of memory is definitely a poultice

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You can really be one hell of critical reviewer, for your words are deep enough. I am as always thankful to you for this amazing review.

      You know I need to go through your words with utmost care and value each of your line Kalyan. I appreciate you taking out time each time something fascinates you here, and that is really well appreciated.

      So, thank you for understanding this verse too once again! Means a lot.
      Peace and light.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Such a beautiful and intricate description of growing up within an umbra of experiences around us which makes and breaks us and shapes our childhood. Your metaphors always leave me mesmerized and you know that my lovely poetess. If it means anything to you, I always keep aside time in my day to savor your work.

    Liked by 1 person

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