A spotless space

I have a place to myself,
where I die each day,
a cup of stale titter that
Diffuse my self worth in the corners.

I eat berries and walnuts.
Watching a ductile sunrise,
Slapping fingers of orange rust on my hip.
I see the magic growing.

It is afternoon,
I see thunder & stars simultaneously.
The wispy steps, smiling & morphing.

I have spot to cry to myself,
Winter tangerine,
A spot where my flat heart attaches to a thing,
Body apart.

The others move to and fro,
Catching nothing but a gasp of air.
I stare at the blue ocean,
Weeds growing,
Stories knitting,
I stare at this spot of mine.

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.

26 thoughts on “A spotless space”

  1. This poem really reached out to me. There is such a deep sadness here that it kind of reminded me of Billie Eilish. And while I sensed the sadness in the song, it also made me think of the special place. Great work!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wonderful imagery!!!! Especially your second stanza.

    ”I eat berries and walnuts.
    Watching a ductile sunrise,
    Slapping fingers of orange rust on my hip.
    I see the magic growing.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This reminds me so much of the process of unbecoming then becoming, the process that takes so much of our time that it’s a reflection of life itself at the end of the day. Your poetry is life!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. There is so much of introspection in this poem. How we attach ourselves to a place, to a spot in time. How our hearts linger to be associated with that spot..where happiness and sadness grow in equal proportion. We ll need such a place, a spot, a home.


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