My days in afternoon are nothing like yours,
I spend most of it by bird- watching,
Somersaulting colors of the sky,
I sip my chamomile tea to prepare my mind
for the evening’s strangers visit to my head.
My days are nothing like yours,
I adorn my necklaces again and again,
repetitive rituals often act like a slippery therapy.
Quiet and nostalgic.
Moments of velvet sadness.
I end my nights by weeping a little more,
by diffusing some hot coconut oil in my lamp,
to cease the heartache with a portion of leftover food maybe
as insane as it must be.
These are the things I do, to protect myself.
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
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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.
View all posts by my valiant soul
Powerful. Describing the days and afternoons when what defines the poem are the nights weeping.
Beautifully and subtly done. Bravo MVS.
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Thankyou so much Andrew.
Email- oliveskinspoet@gmail.com
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Picture+poem = aesthetic pleasure
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Thankyou:))
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Loved it!
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Thankyou Soiba.
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What a pleasure to read this. ❤
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Thankyou:)
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Such a beautiful protection. As always amazingly portrayed, Devika.
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Thankyou Sumit.
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