I am coming back to my writing my poems after a while a lot changed during these times. (Pandemic- second wave) My yellow tree remained un-watered all this while, humans burnt, relatives, families submerged with tears/ fears see my poem has started to rhyme, even. Keep on reading you will sense no sensibility a bunch of lost flowers now archaic, frenzied- razor sharp like tongue of cries bodies once warm now muted, cold, without a twin flame. the situation has become small and painful like a setting sun, only that it is not beautiful.
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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