Perennial

I sit quietly,
observing the silent curves of this Plumeria,
a life extending like an infant.

No lament today,
only the surreal fire of this body,
listening to the hanging exhilaration.

As if, it digests the broken star
running across it’s face of thawed bone.
It shifts it’s mouth
to a better pathway.

It has a space to collect water,
to extend a chin of its part
biting this orange earth sipping sunlight.

This flower disobeys my myth
in small portions for me to eat.
There is a half – eaten Poetry
that I saw today,
hidden in the soft folds of life.

I think of keeping it’s lesson
running wild
soft as a summer grass
on my productive legs today.


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.

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